Fire Emblem: Awakening - Children of Light and Shadow
by Yosei Ranbu
Summary: Short stories. Discontinued.
1. A Brighter Future

"So, this is the place?" Chrom asked, giving a sweeping lookover of the interior of the Valmese temple. Originally dedicated to Naga, the temple had fallen into disuse and disrepair in the last few centuries. It would've been completely negligible if not for reports from nearby villages of powerful Risen habitually emerging from it.

"Aye," Say'ri nodded. "To think the Risen could desecrate such a holy place… Fie, it makes my blood boil!"

"Hmmm," Chrom pondered, turning in the center of the temple as he once more scanned the area and once more failed to find anything of interest. "Robin. What do you make of this?" he asked, turning to his tactician.

Robin was crouched on the ground tracing his fingers over ancient glyphs as he muttered to himself. Lucina stood over him, not understanding anything the man was saying but curious nonetheless. Around them sprawled large rings of engravings in the floor, all marked with an ancient language. Robin glanced up, noting that it seemed the large circle had been carved with very specific purpose. "Dunno. Maybe it can summon Risen? Hey, Tharja! What do you think?"

Tharja leaned against the entrance, her husband Libra keeping vigilant watch over the outside. Out of their party of six, they and Say'ri were the only ones not standing inside the large concentric circles. "Used for ancient rites, no doubt. I don't know what it's supposed to do, but at the very least it's not Dark Magic, so I'm not going to be much help here."

"Hrmmm. Oh, hey! Libra! What sound does this symbol make?" Robin asked while drawing imaginary lines in the air repeatedly.

Libra frowned for a moment. "It's an older dialect of the holy language, but I believe it would be something like 'fehg'".

"Got it, thanks," Robin replied as he returned his gaze to the writing beneath him. He tapped his chin for a moment before uttering a few short sentences in a garbled tongue. Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly, waiting for something to happen. After a few moments Robin shrugged, scratching his head. "Weird, thought that would activate the thing, whatever it is. I wonder if-"

Robin never got a chance to finish his sentence as the engravings suddenly flashed white and a pillar of light engulfed him, Chrom, and Lucina. When it vanished, they were gone.

The three who had not been in the circle could only stare in mortified silence as they tried to grasp what had just happened.

"Oh dear," Libra murmured.

Tharja's eye twitched.

* * *

"Woah," Robin said, standing with his hands on his hips. He looked around, slightly concerned that their surroundings had changed. They were still inside a temple, but now the layout and construction material were entirely different. Perking his ears, Robin realized that he could hear the faint babble of running water. Additionally, Say'ri, Tharja, and Libra were all missing. Robin turned to his two companions, both of whom were doubled over, breathing heavily.

"R-Robin," Chrom spluttered as he gasped for air. "Wh-what the hell did you just do?"

"Well…" Robin started as he walked over to Lucina and began to gently massage her back, "Given that the interior of the temple is completely different, our comrades are gone, and you two, both non-magic-users, are extremely disoriented… my money's on teleportation."

Lucina looked up, still panting, grateful for Robin's aid. "Wh-where are we?"

"Haven't a clue," Robin replied chipperly, clearly none the worse from the teleportation. "We could theoretically be anywhere depending on the strength of the spell. Almost certainly another temple to Naga though, so that rules out Plegia I guess. "

"Pl-Plegia?!" Chrom gasped. "We could be a continent away from our armies?! Why are you so relaxed right now?!"

Robin chuckled. "Chrom, I just said we're not in Plegia."

Chrom scowled. "Wiseass," he muttered.

"But you're right about us potentially being a continent away. It's possible we're back in Ylisse. But that doesn't really matter. All I have to do is wait for this baby to recharge and I can send us back no problem. Judging by the spell structure it shouldn't take more than a day."

"H-how can you be so sure?" Lucina asked.

Robin smiled as he patted her on the back, quite pleased at having a chance to show off. "Because this is where the Risen from the temple back in Valm are coming from. They're teleporting in from here."

"How are Risen using such a complicated spell?" Chrom asked as he stood upright, finally in full control of his faculties again.

Robin's smile died on his face. That was… a disturbingly good point. Risen surely lacked the intelligence to perform so complex an incantation.

_…Unless? _

Robin cursed under his breath before looking Chrom in the eyes. "Deadlords," he said gravely.

Chrom's eyes widened. It had been two years since Donnel had been killed in the battle with the Deadlords Canis and Porcus as the Shepherds fled Plegia, but the pain of that encounter still stung in both men's hearts.

Robin held out a hand to Lucina, who was still bent over and having slight difficulty breathing. "On guard, Luce. We probably have company."

The sounds of Risen screaming echoed throughout a nearby corridor as she took his hand.

"See?" he asked cheekily.

The smile disappeared immediately as a shrill, female shriek rang out. The three bolted down the corridor.

* * *

A young, blue-haired girl sprinted through the halls, skidding as she made a turn. She clutched a tome and a blade to her chest as she ran into a large antechamber, a Plegian cloak flapping behind her. The room was spacious, with carved stone walkways cutting through a freshwater spring. She skidded to a halt as she reached a dead end, her heart settling in the bottom of her stomach. The girl cursed before wheeling around to see Risen bounding towards her. With her back to a wall and deep water on both sides of the walkway, she had no choice but to fight.

"Think, Morgan, think! How would Dad handle this?"

* * *

The Shepherds burst into a large room, all of them on the lookout for the source of the human scream.

"There!" Lucina cried as she pointed to a throng of Risen, which were fast closing in on a girl in a strange cloak. Robin narrowed his eyes. Was it just him or did that cloak seem very familiar?

His line of thought was interrupted by moans behind him and gurgling noises around them. Robin got an uneasy feeling. "Everyone back away from the edges." Chrom and Lucina stepped away quickly, both knowing better than to question Robin when he used that tone.

Robin's suspicions were confirmed as Risen suddenly popped out of the water, hauling themselves onto the marble walkway. Behind him, a crowd of the undead even larger than the one pursuing the girl slowly shuffled into view, eyes glowing brightly in contrast to the gloom of the corridors.

Robin quickly sized up their numbers, their size, and their equipment. "Chrom. Go after the girl. Lucina and I will handle these guys."

Chrom nodded. "Be careful, both of you," he said before rushing to aid the girl, who had begun to sling fire spells at the Risen pursuing her.

Robin waited until Chrom was a significant distance away before turning to Lucina. "Ah, finally some alone-time," Robin grinned as he slipped an arm around her waist. Lucina giggled as she gave him a quick kiss before adopting her combat stance.

* * *

Morgan tripped as she desperately tried to back away from the Risen warrior advancing on her. It was far bigger than the others and hadn't gone down from a single Elfire spell. It raised its axe overhead and gave a fierce warcry. Morgan desperately rolled away from its strike, trying to ready another Elfire. Unfortunately, the Risen Chief was much too fast, and was upon her so quickly that she was forced to defend herself with swordplay. Each blow from the hulking monster made Morgan feel like her arms were going to pop out of their sockets. With a savage kick the Risen caught Morgan dead in the solar plexus, dropping her where she stood. Morgan gasped in pain, unable to breathe, unable to move. She looked up in terror, certain she was about to die.

"L-leave me alone!" She shouted weakly.

"Must kill… future… child…" The Risen Chief growled as it brought its axe up for an overhead blow.

_F-father… Wh-where are you?_ Morgan wondered.

The Risen was about to follow through when its body jerked a bit, a swordtip sticking out of its chest. It howled and turned to glare at its assailant. The fierce-looking blue-haired man returned its look, not flinching in the slightest. Without hesitation, he withdrew his blade from the beast, sidestepped a powerful swing, and easily decapitated the monster.

Morgan couldn't help but think that the man looked quite familiar.

The man turned and struck down two more charging Risen before turning back to Morgan. "You alright?" He asked.

"Th-thank you, sir. …Who are you?" the girl questioned.

"I would ask you the same." The man replied. "More importantly, why are you here? This is hardly a safe place to be wandering alone," he grinned, gesturing to the Risen with his odd-looking sword.

Morgan frowned. Why _was_ she here? "I... I don't know, frankly. I woke up...sprawled in a field. I can't recall anything before that."

The man just stared at her. "This sounds familiar," he deadpanned.

The girl wasn't sure what he meant by that, but continued on. "I... I think I remember my name? ...Morgan? Yes, that's it. My name is Morgan."

The man smiled warmly. "I'm Chrom. And finding amnesiacs is apparently my special talent. I met a good friend, Robin, under the same circumstances."

Morgan's eyes went wide. "Robin?! Is this friend of yours perchance a tactician?"

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "He is. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I know him! He's my father!" Chrom's jaw dropped. "...Wait a second. You found my father lying here unconscious?" Morgan asked curiously.

Chrom just looked at her funny for a few seconds before shaking his head quickly. "Well, not _here_. But yes, we found him lying in a field, memory-free. This was quite a while ago, mind you. So if you're his daughter, I take it you came from the future?"

Now it was Morgan's turn to stare at him as if he were from another world. "...From the future? Are you kidding, sir?! People can't travel through time! If that were possible, I— Ngh! M-my head!" Morgan cried, clutching her forehead as a searing pain coursed through her skull.

Chrom's eyes went wide with alarm. "Whoa, easy there. Try to stay calm. Listen, why don't you just come with me for now? Robin's right down there," he said, pointing to a white-haired man who was fighting a horde of the Risen alongside a blue-haired woman. "He can answer your questions once we take care of these things," Chrom gestured again, indicating a small group of Risen that was approaching them.

"Father's down there?! What are we waiting for?! And don't worry—I can defend myself! You just lead the way!" Morgan cheered exuberantly.

* * *

Lucina pulled the Parallel Falchion out of the Risen she had just felled as Robin set the last one ablaze. Robin dusted off his hands in an exaggerated fashion. "That was way too easy. I was really expecting a Deadlord or something."

Lucina nodded. "As much as I would like to remove them from this world, I feel we should be grateful one didn't appear. I fear we would've had difficulties fighting something so strong while trying to protect the girl."

Robin nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Although from what little I saw, that girl was no slouch at fighting. Her magic was something else."

Lucina turned to him, perplexed. "Magic? I was certain I saw her wielding a sword."

"She can use both," Chrom called out as he descended the stairs, blue-haired girl behind him.

"Well, speak of the devil!" Robin said, turning just in time to be bowled over as the girl tackled him in a fierce bear hug.

"Daddy!" the girl cried, gripping him tightly.

"D-d-daddy?! What?!" Robin stammered.

Chrom laughed heartily at his friend's distress, before turning to his daughter. "Look who we found, Lucina!"

Lucina, just as confused as Robin, turned to her father. "Am I supposed to recognize this person?"

"Huh? Didn't she come back from the future with you?" Chrom asked in surprise.

Lucina shook her head. "As far as we knew, the Robin of my time never married and never had children… I don't understand what's happening here."

Chrom frowned. This girl didn't come from the future after all? And why did Lucina seem so disturbed by Robin's apparent daughter? Was she… sulking?

Robin pushed himself up, the girl still clinging to him. "So if she's not from the future…" he muttered before looking back at the girl. "Look I think there might be some sort of mistake here. I'm not your father. I can't be. I'm barely older than you!"

"Dad, is this the amnesia Chrom was talking about? Of course I'm your daugh- Oh my gods you do look younger. Wh-what's going on here?"

"It would seem a case of mistaken identity," Robin sighed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you must have me confused with someone else… Wait a minute, is this my cloak?" Robin asked, defensively holding up the weathered garment the girl wore.

The girl just stared at him blankly, confused. "Yeah. Well, I mean, I guess it's my father's but… I'm just sure you're my dad!"

"Robin, you realize you aren't the sole proprietor of that kind of cloak right? Hell, do you know how many shops sell knockoffs of that thing in Ylisstol?" Chrom asked.

Robin made a mental note to begin collecting royalties as he frowned. Something was off here; he was certain this cloak was his—much older, but definitely his. The majority of the frays, stitchings, and stains that adorned the old cloak could be found on his as well. Things just weren't adding up here.

"Who's your mother?"

The girl gave the first genuinely sad look he had seen from her, wincing as she rubbed her temple. "I… I can't remember. I'm sorry…"

Robin released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. In truth, any answer would've disappointed him, because it wouldn't have been "Lucina".

"Um, I'm sure this question sounds odd to you coming from me, but what's your name?"

"Morgan!" the girl replied, not missing a single beat.

Robin's eyes went wide. "Morgan?" he whispered in shock, sharing a quick glance with Lucina, the only other person in the room to understand the significance of that name. Lucina was visibly surprised as well, looking from the girl, to Robin, and then back to the girl.

"Robin?" Chrom asked expectantly, unsure what the name could possibly mean to the tactician.

Robin glanced up at him, then shook his head. "I don't need any other proof. I'm certain she's my daughter," he murmured as he brushed Morgan's hair from her forehead. Morgan's face lit up at this and she leaned in to hug Robin again, who reciprocated this time.

"…Just like that?" Chrom questioned. He was used to taking the words of amnesiacs at face-value, but he had expected Robin to have more difficulty accepting that he had a child when he knew so little about himself.

Robin nodded, glancing at Lucina—a glance that did not go unnoticed by her father—before turning back to Chrom. "Morgan is… was… my mother's name."

Chrom and Morgan's mouths both fell open slightly. He had been unaware of Robin acquiring any of his forgotten memories, let alone one so important as one of his lost mother. What's more, he had a strong suspicion that Lucina, and Lucina alone, had been privy to this information. He knew the two had been getting closer over the last few months, but what did it signify that Robin would trust her with something like that and not him?

Morgan, for her part, seemed to be struggling to recall her grandmother; a sadly futile effort if the somber look on Robin's face and his deliberate usage of the past tense were anything to go by.

"I don't have any doubts about you Morgan, "Robin continued softly as he began to remove a glove. "This is all quite confusing for both of us, but we'll work it out later. However, there's something I need to know." Robin slipped it off completely, and held out the back of his right hand, the Mark of Grima visible for all to see. Chrom stiffened in shock. While a handful of Shepherds knew of Robin's brand, it was one of the best-kept secrets in the group, one even the loose-lipped Lissa had been adamant about maintaining. For him to display it so openly in front of Lucina…

"Do you have a mark like this?" Robin asked. Morgan stared at it for a second.

She blinked once in confusion before replying. "I… I don't know."

Robin frowned. The girl's amnesia was worse than he thought. "Here, let me take a look." He grasped Morgan's left hand—brands rarely took the exact same place on children as they did their parents—and removed the glove, revealing pale but unmarked skin. Robin moved to the other hand as Chrom and Lucina watched with rapt attention. Robin carefully removed the glove with trembling fingers, and his breath hitched.

There, sitting on Morgan's right hand, was the Mark of Naga.

A sustained silence filled the room as Robin, Chrom, and Lucina could only stare in shock. Morgan turned to each of them quizzically, failing to understand the significance of her different brand.

"Um, Dad?" Morgan finally asked. "You can let go of my hand now."

Robin snapped to attention before relaxing his grip. "Erm, right. Of course. Sorry Morgan. Hey, could you go into the other room and um… check for the brand… elsewhere?" he trailed off sheepishly, quite embarrassed.

Morgan nodded brightly. "No problem Dad! I'll give a shout if those things show up again." She hopped up and trotted out the room.

"What… what does this mean?" Lucina finally asked, looking at Robin expectantly. Chrom turned to him as well. If Robin was certainly the father, and the mother was of the Exalt's line…

Robin sighed. "I thought you might know, Luce. You said I never married right? Perhaps Morgan is a bastard child, but that would mean the only possible mother would be…" Robin groaned loudly. "…Lissa?" he tentatively concluded, doing his best not to look Chrom in the eye.

Lucina shook her head emphatically. "No. This Morgan is certainly younger than Owain, and Aunt Lissa never had a second child before she…" Lucina coughed. "At any rate, I'm certain she's not Aunt Lissa's daughter."

"But there's only so many possibilities if she comes from the future-" Robin froze mid-sentence, staring into space as an idea struck him. "No… maybe I shouldn't say _the_ future. Maybe I should say _a_ future?"

Chrom and Lucina shared a confused look before turning back to Robin.

"What if we've been looking at the future the wrong way?" Robin asked as he leaned over the edge of the walkway and dragged a finger through the springwater. "We'd been operating under the assumption that time flows like a river, and that Lucina and the others traveled back by going against the current. But what if that's wrong? What if they merely hopped into an adjacent stream?" Robin asked, accentuating his point by skipping his finger across the water.

Robin began to talk more animatedly, growing excited. "What if Morgan doesn't come from the same time as Lucina at all? What if she's from another time stream? What if she's from _this_ time stream? What if she doesn't have the Mark of Grima _because Grima doesn't exist in her time_? What if she comes from a future where we've won? A future where we-" Robin stopped speaking abruptly, mouth moving slightly before he clamped it shut, as if he had been about to say something he shouldn't. He once again shot a quick glance at Lucina. Chrom noted with some concern that Robin's cheeks were beginning to gain a red tint. He became even more alarmed when Lucina let out a soft gasp, cheeks flushed scarlet and eyes wide with wonder as she seemed to realize something.

"Does that mean…?" She whispered, a large smile breaking across her face.

"I'm sure of it," Robin nodded to her, a big stupid grin plastered on his.

_What the hell are these two talking about?_ Chrom wondered as he looked from his best friend to his daughter. Chrom's gaze fell on the brand in Lucina's left eye, and suddenly he felt as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Something immediately clicked. Chrom thought back to all of the time Robin and Lucina had been spending together lately; the lingering glances, the degree to which his usually stoic daughter had been smiling recently, the way Sumia and Lissa had been giving her knowing looks while having conversations outside Chrom's earshot… All of the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

Robin's senses were screaming at him that he was in imminent danger, and he had to agree. He shot to his feet. "Anywayyyy, I'm going to go scout ahead. Wouldn't want to get caught off-guard by anymore Ris-owowowowowow!"

Robin glanced over his shoulder, which Chrom had a ferocious vicegrip on. His countenance was more terrifying than Robin had ever seen, reminding him of old illustrations of Astra, the Chon'sin god of war. Robin immediately knew he was a dead man.

"Robin…. Is there something you'd like to tell me? Something regarding my precious little girl…?" Chrom asked icily. Robin gave a panicked look to Lucina, whose hands were over her mouth. There was no doubt about it; they had been found out. Robin sighed. He had meant to tell Chrom eventually, but had been putting it off due to the war and the overwhelming amount of awkwardness. He cleared his throat, steeling himself for inexorable death.

"Very well Chrom. You deserve to know. Lucina and I are in a relationship. This is quite serious; we love each other very much and I would readily die for her."

"_You might not get the chance if I have anything to do with it_," Chrom threatened darkly, free hand reaching for Falchion—an action not missed by Robin.

"Hold on Chrom, we had meant to tell you eventually but felt that it would be better to wait until after the war was over. But I assure you my intentions towards her are pure and ohgodsyouwouldn'tkillmewithyourgranddaughterintheotherroomright?"

Chrom's eyes went wide at that jumble of words. "Robin…" Chrom growled. "Is my daughter… pregnant?"

Robin gave out an involuntary laugh as his mind shut down for a moment under the strain of pure horror.

"No Father, you misunderstand!" Lucina yelled. "I do love Robin, but I am not with child. At least… at least, not yet…" Lucina trailed off, glancing away with a blush as she smiled slightly.

Robin would've swooned at how adorable that display was if he hadn't been actively fighting off a feral panic. "Lucina, I love you, but you are possibly quite literally killing me here," he said pointedly. He looked back to Chrom. "Have I mentioned that I love her? A lot?"

"Have I mentioned that I'm going to hurt you? A lot?"

At this moment Morgan re-entered the room, much to Robin's relief. Before the girl could announce that she had been unsuccessful in locating another brand, Robin bolted over to Morgan and hoisted her up. Wheeling around, Robin held her defensively between himself and Chrom. "Ha! You wouldn't dare go through your own granddaughter to get to me!" Robin exclaimed triumphantly.

Chrom's eye twitched.

"Wait, 'granddaughter'?" Morgan asked.

"Robin! Don't use our daughter as a human shield!" Lucina yelled in exasperation.

Chrom's eye twitched twice.

"'Our'?" Morgan asked, eyes wide. "Umm… I'm sorry, but I can't remember you. Who are you?"

Lucina smiled. "My name is Lucina. I think… I think that I'm your mother. You can't imagine how happy I am to meet you, Morgan."

Morgan's eyes went wide. "M-mother? You're my mom?" She asked incredulously.

Lucina nodded, hesitating a bit. "I can't say for sure, but I feel it in my heart. Furthermore, you have the same brand as me," she said, gesturing to her eye.

Robin rested his chin on Morgan's head. "That's right, she's your mom. Or at the very least, she's the only person who I would want to be your mother," he said, looking into Lucina's eyes and smiling warmly. Lucina looked as if she might cry from happiness. "So what do you think, kiddo?"

Morgan stared at Lucina for a moment before she broke into a huge grin. "Yeah! I'm sure of it!" She pulled out of Robin's grip and ran into Lucina's arms. "Mom! I missed you so much!" She cried happily.

As much as Chrom still felt the urge to beat Robin senseless, he had to admit he had never seen him or Lucina so happy in his life. He sighed. "Lucina? Why don't you take Morgan and go set up camp? You can fill her in on the situation. I'm going to have a little chat with Robin. Give us a shout if you run into more Risen."

Lucina frowned. "Will he still be in one piece when I get back?"

Chrom raised his right hand. "I solemnly swear I will not dismember Robin."

"That's disturbingly specific," Robin muttered.

"Alright," Lucina laughed before coming over to Robin and giving him a quick kiss. "Play nice now," she said before she took Morgan by the hand and exited the room.

"As much as I enjoy that, you're just antagonizing him dear," Robin called out. Robin sighed, then gulped and turned to face Chrom. "Sooooo…."

"…How long?" Chrom asked.

"Define 'how long'. How long have we been together? Since that night we spent at the Mila Tree. How long has it been since I realized how I felt about her? The boat trip to Valm. You know, the one I spent the majority of bedridden because I almost died saving her life? That one? …Erm, anyway… How long has it been since I fell in love with her? I don't really know. Maybe since the moment I first laid eyes on her. …Which would be when she was Marth. Gods that's awkward…"

Robin had been zoned out while he talked, and finally looked back to Chrom, whose face was still an emotionless mask.

"…Chrom, she means everything to me. For the first time in my admittedly short life, I know exactly what I want from the future. And it's her. I want to make her happy. I want to give her a peaceful life. I want to grow old with her. I'm fighting for all of us, but above all I'm fighting for her." Robin paused. "And Morgan now as well. …Do you have any idea what Morgan must mean to Lucina? Lucina, who never expected to be able to have a family or future of her own? Lucina, who was prepared to sacrifice every bit of joy she had ever had for the good of the world? …I want to give her that happiness more than anything. She deserves it more than anyone." Robin finished, eyes burning with vigor.

Chrom was silent for a few moments. Finally, he sighed. "Well, I am glad that you said all that. But Robin, I wasn't upset that you're with my daughter. All those threats of physical violence were mostly for show. Mostly. In fact I would be ecstatic if I wasn't so angry right now! How could I not be happy? My daughter couldn't be in better hands—there's no man alive I trust more than you. And that's what's pissing me off so much! How could you not tell me?! I thought you trusted me too! We're like brothers!"

Robin stepped back as if Chrom had struck him, which he warily noted could still happen.

_…Gods dammit_, _he's right_.

"I… I'm sorry Chrom. I guess I didn't come to you about this because… because I was afraid. What if you didn't approve? What would I do? You're my best friend, and I owe everything to you. I was so afraid of losing our friendship, or worse, losing her, that I took the easy way out. I truly am sorry. You deserve far better than that after all we've been through. Can you forgive me?"

Chrom sighed, then walked over and clapped his hand on Robin's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so… So, I'm a grandfather now, huh?"

"Seems so," Robin grinned.

"Hoo boy, that's going to take some getting used to… Hopefully Sumia can do all of the Morgan-spoiling for me while I try to adjust to this… Oh and please don't let her call me 'Grandpa', I'm really not ready for that."

Robin laughed loudly.

"Oh and one more thing. Don't think you're getting out of a royal wedding. And if you try to wear that damned coat, whatever I threaten you with will pale in comparison to what Sumia will do to you."

Robin chuckled nervously.

"And don't even _think_ about touching my little girl before then or I'll skin you alive with Falchion. I'm sure you can guess which part of your body I'll start with," Chrom said as he began to walk away.

"Ahaha… Chrom? You wouldn't jeopardize Morgan's existence would you? Chrom? …Chrom?"


	2. The Midmire

"Hurry! There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!" Khan Basilio yelled, trudging through the thick mud of the Midmire. The enormous bones of a long-dead dragon jutted out of the ground, serving as a grim reminder of the place from which Emmeryn had fallen. The Shepherds followed close behind Basilio in a deathly silence, all preoccupied with the terrible loss of their Exalt. Towards the front of column Chrom stumbled and fell to his knees. He didn't bother trying to get up, just staring listlessly at the muck as the rain poured down on him.

Robin reached down and shook him by the shoulder roughly. Everyone was hurting right now, especially Chrom, but the Ylisseans needed their leader more than anything right now. "Chrom, please!"

Chrom rubbed his face tiredly and shakily got to his feet. "Rrgh... I'm... I'm coming."

"Quickly!" Basilio called from ahead. "We're almost... Huh? Damn!"

Lightning illuminated the shapes of entrenched men, weapons aimed at the Ylisseans. The Plegians had even been clever enough to build fortifications on the top of dragon's skeleton, making assailing their ranged units a daunting prospect. Robin cursed under his breath. He hadn't expected them to be able to get away easily after the disastrous rescue attempt, but he had hoped that the Shepherds would have had more time to collect themselves before being forced to fight again. He hurried to the front of the line, standing next to Basilio as the Khan surveyed the opposition.

"Plegians!" Basilio spit. "I knew it couldn't be that easy... They're right in our way! We must fight!"

Robin nodded, and began yelling orders. The Shepherds stirred, and sluggishly formed up. Robin scowled. This was what he had feared; the Shepherds seemed almost lifeless, drained of hope. Chrom stood silently behind him, dead to the world.

Suddenly, a man called out from one of the forts on top of the dragon's bones. He was a large man, nearly as tall and wide as Basilio. He was bald and had a thick long beard, and was dressed in the traditional garb of Plegian warriors. "Ylisseans! I am General Mustafa of Plegia! I offer you mercy! Surrender to me now and live!"

Robin and Basilio looked at each other incredulously. Was this a joke? Did he really expect them to offer themselves up to Gangrel after everything that had happened? "Surrender? Sorry, I'm not familiar with the word," Basilio called back.

"Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed." The Plegian general shouted down.

Chrom stirred from his stupor, eyes blazing with fury. "Don't speak her name!" he screamed. Robin couldn't help but feel a bit relieved that his friend had regained his fire.

"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom," Mustafa said in a sad tone. "But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can."

Robin's mouth fell open. This man truly meant what he said, didn't he? But how? Had Emmeryn truly had such an effect on the Plegian people? Didn't the Plegians despise the Ylisseans? How could a single death have undone years of hatred? …Unless the Plegians had long grown sick of war as well? Could it be…? Had Emmeryn already realized this?

"How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done? I think we shall take our chance with weapons in hand!" Frederick shouted, jolting Robin from his thoughts. Robin noted with some worry that Frederick's rage was as palpable as Chrom's. As much as Robin wished to speak with this Mustafa, he recognized that Frederick was right. Perhaps the Plegian populace did wish for nothing more for peace, but Gangrel never would and never could accept that. There would be no safety from the Mad King if they surrendered.

"Aye!" Robin shouted. "As long as Gangrel reigns, there can be no peace! I ask that you stand aside, General Mustafa, and allow us to pass! Our quarrel is not with you or your men!" Chrom, Basilio, and Frederick all turned to Robin in shock. It hadn't occurred to any of them to even consider asking the Plegians to stand down.

"You must be the Ylissean tactician," Mustafa responded. "I had heard rumors of your diligence in protecting the lives of your comrades. Would that we could have met under better circumstances. Alas, you ask too much of me. I am duty-bound to stop you, or die trying."

"Our course is clear then, General," Chrom yelled. "We will fight! Sheperds! Move out!"

"I suspected you would say as much." Mustafa replied somberly. "So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavor to grant you a swift and dignified end."

The Ylisseans split up into the formations Robin had assigned them and began making their way through the labyrinthine remains, engaging the Plegian soldiers as they came upon them. Chrom charged into the enemy with reckless abandon, cutting down man after man. Robin backed him up with thunder spells, shooting down the archers, mages, and wyvern riders that Chrom paid no heed to. Robin was becoming increasingly concerned with Chrom's mental state as the prince threw himself at his foes.

* * *

"General Mustafa! The Ylisseans have broken through the outer perimeter and are advancing!"

The general nodded at the scout, not breaking pace as he walked with his captains. "Call in the reinforcements. Draw them in close, then strike."

"Yessir!" The scout hurried off to relay the orders.

A captain spoke up. "Sir, there are reports of bandits making their way through the battlefield. They desecrate the corpses of our fallen and then flee like rats."

"Pah! Ignore them. The Ylisseans are our priority. We'll bring such scum to justice later."

"Sir," the captain nodded.

Mustafa's brow furrowed as he made his way through the halls of the fort. He had heard of the Ylisseans' strength, but he had not been prepared for this. In addition to the Shepherds being individually skilled warriors, their tactician was masterfully maneuvering them, striking quickly and precisely before falling back, taking advantage of every opportunity the Midmire provided. Nearly half of Mustafa's forces had already fallen, and while a number of Ylissean soldiers had been lost, every last one of the Shepherds still fought. The outcome of this battle was appearing more and more to be inevitable.

Mustafa's thoughts were interrupted as he came upon a soldier who was staring numbly at the ground, clearly away from his post. "You there. Why are you not at your station?" The general asked gruffly.

The soldier jumped and looked up, fear in his eyes. He hesitated his moment, then seemed to come to a resolve about something. "Forgive me, sir, but I...I no longer see the justice in hunting these people down. I accept any punishment you see fit, but after all that's happened...I just can't."

There was a stunned silence before one of the captains spoke up, furious.

"How dare you question the general's orders! You know full well the punishment for insubordination is death!"

"B-but, sir! These people are—"

Mustafa raised a hand, cutting him off. "These questions are not ours to ponder, lad. The soldier does not judge. The soldier delivers judgment."

The deserter was quiet for a few moments before he finally found his voice again. "Sir, I... I cannot raise my lance against them. Even if... Even if it means death."

Mustafa considered him silently. At the very least, this man was not a coward. "...You were there when Emmeryn spoke, weren't you?"

The soldier nodded quickly.

"…So be it! Those of you unwilling to fight are dismissed!" The captains all gave exclamations of protest at once, unable to believe what they were hearing.

"But I don't wish to abandon you, sir!" The soldier cried.

Mustafa smiled sadly. "I cannot defy the king, lad. I know him well. He would murder my wife and child to set an example. I will accept the blame for your actions today. Now go!"

The soldier stood there, not quite sure what to do. He respected these Ylisseans, did not wish to see them killed. But he held the kind General Mustafa above all other men. Finally, his eyes hardened, his course decided. "W-wait, General! I see a cause worth fighting for, one I believe in: loyalty to my general."

Mustafa regarded the man somberly. "...Aye. That's a good lad."

* * *

_This is dangerous_, Robin thought to himself. Not only was Chrom risking his life unnecessarily, but he was allowing his hatred to drive him. This was wrong.

Chrom struck down two fighters with brutal ease, turning with a snarl to a lancer. The soldier panicked and threw down his weapon, turning to flee. Chrom was making to pursue when Robin grabbed him by the shoulder. The prince turned to his tactician, confused. "What are you doing, Robin?" he asked quietly.

"This isn't right, Chrom. These men don't wish to fight us. You can see it in their eyes. We should focus on taking down their general as quickly as possible. Without him their resolve will crumble and they'll break rank and flee. Fighting them to a man will only cause needless bloodshed. Your sister wouldn't want this."

Chrom grabbed his friend by the collar, seething. "How _dare_ you?"

Robin gave no retort, only staring at his friend sadly.

Slowly, Chrom felt his rage die. Robin was right. He released his hold on Robin's collar, then clasped him by the shoulder. "…I-I know. I'm sorry. Let's hurry and put an end to this." He moved to turn away, before pausing. "…Robin? Why did you speak with their general like that?"

Robin walked past him, searching for the quickest route to the fort he had seen Mustafa falling back to. "It's what Emmeryn would've done," he said simply.

* * *

Blood sprayed through the air as Frederick cut down a soldier, a ferocious glare on the Knight Commander's face. Donnel had never seen his captain like this before. It wasn't like him at all. While Frederick was stern, distrusting, and a harsh taskmaster, he was also a gentle man at heart. Donnel couldn't reconcile the Frederick he knew with the man before him.

With a bloodcurdling scream, Frederick rode down a Plegian officer, hacking away at him. Donnel's eyes went wide as he watched Frederick strike again and again. He dashed up to the knight and grabbed him by the arm. Frederick turned, to him, eyes burning with fury. "Unhand me!"

"Sir, ya gots to stop! The poor fella's already dead! This ain't like ya, sir!"

Frederick flinched as he realized what he had been doing, and what had driven him to do so. Frederick's sword slipped from his fingers as he began to sob. "I have failed her, Sir Donnel," the man wept. "I have failed in my duty as a knight. I have failed in my duty as a man. I have failed the only woman I have ever-" Frederick stopped, composing himself with a shaking breath. "I have failed," he finished bleakly.

"Not yet ya haven't!" Donnel yelled fiercely. "As long as we're all still alive ya've got somethin' to fight for. Ya think Lady Emmeryn wants ya to feel sorry for yourself when we gots people who need protectin'? Course not!"

"You… how can you understand what I have lost?" Frederick asked bitterly.

"Maybe I can't. But I know for damn sure there's still plenty left ta be savin'."

Frederick sat back on his horse as if he had been struck. "…Yes. You are right, Sir Donnel. My thanks for rousing me from my deplorable state. Please hand me my sword."

"Yessir!"

* * *

"This is nothing," Lon'qu growled. "Leave me be."

"Not a chance," Lissa said sternly as she administered to a gash on Lon'qu's arm. "You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let anything happen to you!"

Lon'qu pondered the deeper meaning of this statement for a brief moment. "Forgive me," he said quietly. "You have been through much today. I would not cause you further distress. …You should not be here. Fall back."

"No way! I'm not gonna let anything happen to anyone! I can break down and cry once everyone's gotten through this!" Lissa shouted. "I-I've gotta be strong! E-Emm… Emm would want me to-" Lissa cut off, furiously rubbing away tears that had welled up in her eyes. Lon'qu watched her somberly. Hand trembling slightly, he mentally steeled himself and forced himself to lay a hand on Lissa's shoulder reassuringly.

* * *

Robin and Chrom arrived at the commander's fort, a small vanguard of Shepherds in tow. The Plegian survivors had retreated here and hunkered down, their reinforcements bogged down by the rest of the Ylissean forces. Assaulting the fort would be difficult and costly, but there was no way around it, save for one. Robin nodded to Chrom, who strode out into the open.

"General Mustafa! I, Chrom, Prince of Ylisse, challenge you to single combat!"

The Shepherds could hear the Plegians muttering amongst themselves, before abruptly going quiet when the gate opened and Mustafa strode out.

"As you wish. I trust that this duel will be fought honorably."

Chrom nodded.

" I am General Mustafa of Plegia." Mustafa yelled. "If you wish to keep your lives, then you must win them!" With this he drew a heavy battle axe and took up a combat stance. Everything was going as Robin had expected. He knew that the general would not be able to pass a chance to crush the Ylisseans' resolve by bringing down Chrom; out of concern for his men should the fort be assaulted, the general would take any opportunity to bring this battle quickly to a close. Robin had been counting on this and planned accordingly; it was a dirty, underhanded tactic that would rob the world of a good man no matter what the outcome of the duel. It was also the only way to spare the general's men, who would surely fight to the death for their leader.

Chrom rushed forwards, Falchion locking with the general's axe. The general pushed against him, and it was clear which of the two men was stronger. Chrom hopped back, before darting in and jabbing at Mustafa's thigh. The general deflected the blow, but only barely. Chrom ducked under the retaliatory swing and attacked again, forcing Mustafa to retreat as he hurriedly blocked with his axe. While Mustafa was more powerful, it was clear Chrom had the edge in speed and agility.

For what seemed like endless minutes, the sound of steel striking steel rang out against the perpetual background noise of falling rain. Ylisseans and Plegians alike held silent vigil, none daring to make a sound as the fierce battle was fought before them.

Chrom was beginning to tire, but had not sustained any injuries besides a few bruises so far. Mustafa, on the other hand, was bleeding profusely from wounds all over his body, each the result of a close call as Chrom managed to slip through his guard. The Plegian general realized that a prolonged battle was not favoring him, and charged Chrom, swinging with all his might. Chrom parried the blow, but the force of the strike knocked him back, causing him to slip on the thick mud and fall. Mustafa hesitated for a brief moment, then brought his axe down on the prone Chrom. Chrom barely managed to roll away in time, the axe thudding into the ground with a dull splatter. Chrom leapt up and charged, surprising Mustafa with his quick recovery. Mustafa tried to bring his axe around in time, but to no avail—Chrom ran the Plegian through, Falchion protruding from the man's back.

Chrom grit his teeth as Mustafa sank to his knees, remembering the general's hesitation before he had attacked the downed prince. Chrom was certain that if Mustafa had been fighting only for his own life, he would have allowed his foe to stand up before continuing.

The general was struggling to breathe now, blood staining him and the ground he kneeled upon. "Well done, Yllisean… Hrrggh!" He winced as pain spasmed through his body. "Please… spare my men…"

Chrom nodded solemnly. "You have my word."

Mustafa smiled. "Y-you have my… th-thanks." His eyes closed for the last.

* * *

The surrender of the fort was uneventful. The Plegians threw down their arms en masse, and Chrom permitted them to escape, taking their general's body with them to grant it a proper burial. The Shepherds congregated near the fallen fort. To Robin's relief, all of them had survived, and the main battalion of soldiers that had been accompanying them was mostly intact. For the most part, the Ylisseans seemed to be in better spirits, but Robin knew they would need time to properly grieve.

Basilio ran up to the group, worry evident in his one eye. "Chrom, Robin… we've got trouble. It's… ah hell, you had better come and see for yourselves."

Chrom and Robin exchanged concerned glances, then nodded and ran off after the Khan. Basilio led them led them up a plateau on level with the dragon's bones before coming to a halt, pointing to the distance. What Robin and Chrom saw made their blood freeze in their veins. Steadily approaching, they could see rows upon rows of glowing red eyes.

"Risen," Robin muttered in disbelief. "Where… where the hell did all of them come from?"

"I don't know," Basilio muttered darkly. "But one thing's for sure; we need to get rid of them before the caravan arrives. We won't be able to get away with this many pursuing us; even if we can defend the caravan, Plegian reinforcements will no doubt catch up."

Robin nodded. He had been thinking the exact same thing. He turned to Chrom. "I agree. We need to- GET DOWN!"Robin screamed, tackling his friend and knocking him over a millisecond before a black arrow passed through where the prince's head had been.

The two frantically scrambled to their feet, scanning quickly for their assailant. "There!" Basilio exclaimed, pointing with his axe to where a long figure stood atop the dragon's remains. The figure turned and quickly disappeared out of view, but Robin could've sworn he saw a flash of red.

The Shepherds began to stir in worry; they had all heard Robin yelling. Robin, Chrom, and Basilio charged down the slope, Robin frantically shouting about the Risen and assigning formations. The Shepherds quickly formed up. Robin was about to issue further instructions when the words died on his lips. There, standing near the dragon's bones, were what were unmistakably two Risen. One wore a hooded assassin's cloak, and the other, a female, wore mage's garments while sitting astride an undead horse. They were just far away enough from the bulk of the Shepherds that Robin suspected they would be impossible to pursue should he for whatever reason attempt to throw the entirety of their forces at the two.

Something about this was very wrong. The Risen stared at him with burning red eyes, but unlike any he had seen before—Robin was certain he could see the spark of intelligence in them. The tactician hesitated; there was more to these two than it seemed, but the Risen horde would be upon them in moments. Coming to a decision, Robin turned to Chrom, who was assessing the newcomers with the same apprehension. "I don't like this. Those two seem way too confident to be standing out in the open like that. I think they're baiting us."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "A challenge? Robin, they're Risen. They're mindless."

Robin shook his head. "That's what I would think as well, but they don't seem like the others. Why would they approach us directly, when they could easily head the army approaching us? Unless… they were confident they could take us on themselves?"

Unbidden, a forgotten word rose to Robin's mind.

Robin sucked air in through his teeth. "Chrom, I think these things are called Deadlords."

Chrom's eyes went wide at this. He had read stories of the Deadlords as a child; ancient and revered warriors revived with foul magic, each retaining their human intelligence and each more powerful than ten men. He had always considered them fairy tales, but the recent revelation of the existence of Risen now cast doubts on that belief.

"Alright… what do you want to do, Robin?"

"We'll take them together. We'll have backup, but not enough to deplete our main forces. We're going to need every person available to deal with that army. …Frederick and Donnel should do. Basilio needs to lead the Feroxian troops." Basilio snorted at this, disappointed in being left out, but nodded in agreement. "Virion can command the Shepherds in my place," Robin continued. He's nearly as good at tactics as I am. We'll kill these freaks and then head back to reinforce the main army."

Chrom and Basilio voiced their agreement. Chrom began shouting orders while Basilio went to consult with his officers. Robin called Virion over to discuss strategy while Donnel and Frederick stood to attention. The entire time Robin kept a wary eye on the supposed Deadlords, who had not moved once while they had observed the Shepherds. It would seem the male Risen had abandoned the notion of a sneak attack after its initial failure. Curious that an assassin would take so direct approach; it seemed completely at odds with the creature's personality… Perhaps someone or something was controlling it? The witch that had been with Gangrel, perhaps?

Outlines of their plans complete, Virion clasped a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Take care, my friend."

Robin snapped back to attention. "You as well. We're counting on you, Virion."

Virion swept his hair back with a flourish. "Fear not! While I, Virion, archest of archers, may not be the most tactical of tacticians, I shall endeavor to defeat these ill-begotten creatures as gracefully and efficiently as I do you in chess."

"Remember that you're not maneuvering chess pieces here." Robin pointed out.

Virion nodded solemnly, then turned to take command of the Shepherds. Robin turned back to the Deadlords just as Chrom had finished giving commands to his soldiers. Frederick stood ready, but Donnel had curiously disappeared. Where the hell had the boy run off to?

* * *

Donnel cleared his throat, and mustered up all of his courage. He'd need to do this quickly; he had to get back to Prince Chrom and Robin as fast as he could.

"Erm, Miss Anna? Before I go, there's somethin' I need to tell ya, somethin' mighty important."

The red-haired merchant turned. "Oh? What is it, Donny?"

"Well it's just… Lady Emmeryn's passin' got me thinkin', 'bout how I want to live my life an' what's important to me. And, well, I just… I think you're real pretty and smart and kind, an' you make me smile and- Aw hell, I'm no good with words." Donnel leaned in suddenly and kissed Anna.

After a moment he pulled back, blushing furiously. Anna was simply staring at him with a dazed expression, not sure how to react.

"W-well I'd best be getting' back. I'll see ya later Miss Anna!" With that the farmboy-turned-knight ran off, clutching his iconic pot to the top of his head. Anna watched him go, thoughtfully putting a finger to her lips. She stood there for a few moments before a call from Virion shook her from her stupor, causing her to run to catch up with the rest of her squad.

* * *

"Where were you?" Robin asked as Donnel ran up to them, face red as a beet. Robin was becoming increasingly concerned at how the Deadlords were just standing by and allowing their preparations to go unmolested, as if it were beneath them to interfere.

"Er, just takin' care of somethin' real fast-like. I'm ready now though."

Frederick gave him a skeptical look, but Robin and Chrom nodded.

"Alright. Let's do this." Robin said, turning towards the Deadlords. The other three men fell into step, approaching the two Risen shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Frederick, Donnel, you two take the one on the left. Chrom and I will handle the mage." Robin instructed. "And remember… we don't have to hold back anymore. Throw every bit of rage you've all been bottling up inside at these bastards. They won't know what hit them!"

The group stopped about five meters in front of the two Risen. Robin raised his voice. "You two. Are you what are called Deadlords?"

A few moments passed, during which Robin began to feel quite foolish for expecting Risen to be able to speak. However, to his mild relief, the female opened her mouth and spoke in a melodious, light voice.

"_We are the Deadlords, Canis-_" she said, gesturing to herself, _"-And Porcus,_" pointing to her companion. Chrom was about to introduce himself in turn when Canis raised her hand to cut him off. "_Your names matter not to us._" With that she fired a powerful Arcthunder spell at the group, causing them all to dive out of the way.

_What the hell?_ Robin wondered. Canis had just used magic without relying on a tome or incantation; something he had never met a mage capable of doing. Robin flipped open his tome and cast an Arcwind spell, which Canis easily countered with her own before following up with an Arcfire, forcing Robin to scramble out of the way.

_What… what are these things?_

Porcus rushed forward, pulling out a dagger with each hand as he charged Chrom. Chrom brought up Falchion to block, but was surprised when Frederick intercepted, forcing the Deadlord to leap back with a thrust of his lance.

"Milord, leave this scoundrel to us. Robin seems to be struggling over there."

Chrom nodded, running off to support the tactician. Donnel fell into position behind the Knight Commander, spear at ready. Porcus regarded the two before dashing forward again. The Deadlord was intimidatingly fast; as they traded blows Frederick noted with some discomfort that the Risen would've been able to get in range of him multiple times if not for Donnel's support. It did not bear dwelling on what would happen if Porcus was allowed to get close. It occurred to Frederick with some dismay that at the current rate it was inevitable that their opponent would eventually be able to capitalize on a mistake. Taking a deep stance and thinking back to Robin's words, Frederick allowed all of the rage, sorrow, and pain that he had been suppressing to flow through him. "Come, monster! We are knights of Ylisse, and we will not be defeated by likes of you!"

* * *

Robin rubbed rainwater out of his eyes, careful not to let his tome become soaked beyond use. Canis was unbelievably powerful, able to keep both himself and Chrom at bay simultaneously. If either had been facing her solo it was entirely possible they would've been killed by now. Robin had expected these Risen to be more powerful than average, but this was absurd. He couldn't remember ever feeling so outclassed.

Realizing that he would not be unable to overpower Canis in a contest of magic, Robin shifted his focus to creating openings for Chrom to advance. Every time the prince had managed to get close, he had been forced back by a barrage of magic. If Chrom didn't have the Fire Emblem to deflect the spells, he most likely would have been put out of commission already. Robin fired spell after spell at the Deadlord, trying to time his attacks in a way that would force Canis to focus on him, giving Chrom a chance to gain ground. Canis's skill was too great though, the most embarrassing display being when she ricocheted an Elthunder off Robin's own to simultaneously divert the Robin's spell's path and strike Chrom in the side.

Robin scowled. This was going nowhere. If he couldn't match Canis in terms of power or skill, perhaps speed was the answer? He grinned as an idea struck him.

"Chrom! I need you to keep her occupied for about thirty seconds!" Robin called.

"Oh sure! No problem! Want me to make you some tea while I'm at it?!" Chrom yelled back sarcastically. Robin winced; he was asking quite a bit of his friend here. This sentiment was accentuated by Chrom being knocked over by another Elthunder as it glanced off the Fire Emblem.

Robin flipped open a tome, hastily improvising as he strung together a series of incantations. He had never tried anything like this before, and if he had been asked to explain the plan in detail he would've felt quite insane. Fortunately, his plans of that sort tended to reap excellent rewards. Nearing the end of his spell, Robin glanced up, relieved to see that Chrom was still ok, if a bit exhausted.

"Any- day- now- Robin!" Chrom shouted, each word accentuated by the strain of batting away an Elfire with Falchion.

Incantation complete, Robin sprang into action, charging at Canis with his sword drawn. The Deadlord turned and fired an Arcfire at him. Robin snapped his fingers, releasing the first lock on his incantation. He aimed his hand at the ground, a Wind spell shooting out and sending him flying into the air from the recoil.

Canis looked up and quirked an eyebrow before firing an Arcthunder. Robin snapped his fingers again, unleasing an Elwind that pushed him out of the way. Before Canis could ready another spell, Robin snapped one last time, releasing the third and final part of his layered spell. An Arcwind fired behind him, sending him rocketing towards Deadlord, sword poised to skewer her.

Against an ordinary mage, Robin's timing would've been perfect, and his plan would've succeeded admirably. However, an ordinary mage needed time to marshal their energies for more powerful spells, and incantations to focus their power. Canis, requiring neither of these things, was not so susceptible. She turned and raised both hands, an Arcwind spell of her own shooting out and hitting Robin point-blank. Robin's forward-momentum was cancelled entirely, and he was sent flying through the air, being brought to a halt only when he collided with one of the dragon's bones. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, passing out instantly.

* * *

Frederick was slowing. Try as hard as he might, he was becoming unable to keep up with the ruthless Porcus. Growing desperate, Frederick gave a savage thrust. Porcus saw an opportunity and pounced on it, gracefully dodging the strike and leaning in an attempt to stab Frederick in the chest. Once more, Donnel came to his commander's aid, forcing the Deadlord to back off with a timely stab from his spear. Frederick was about to express his gratitude when out of the corner of his eye he saw Robin sent flying. Fear seized Frederick's heart; both out of concern for Robin and for worry of the fact that without support, it was questionable how long his prince could stand against such an impossibly powerful foe.

"Donnel! Our liege is in peril! Go to his aid!"

Donnel shook his head. "No sir! You're too tired to fight this fella on your own. I'll hold 'im off while you go an' help Prince Chrom."

Frederick hesitated. He did not relish the thought of leaving Donnel to fend for himself, but the boy had become a skilled warrior in a staggeringly short amount of time, and was clearly in better condition than himself at the moment. Furthermore, Frederick thought darkly, if it came down to a choice between the life of Prince Chrom and the life of his underling, Frederick's choice was clear.

"Be careful," Frederick said, before rushing to help a struggling Chrom. Canis was pushing him back relentlessly, lobbing spell after spell at the prince. Where the Deadlord drew her power from, Frederick couldn't begin to fathom. He must hurry.

Frederick was surprisingly close now; for a moment, he entertained the hope that he would be able to attack Canis before she recognized she had another opponent. The Deadlord quickly dispelled any such notions, knocking Frederick back with an Arcwind spell. Unlike Chrom, Frederick had little in the ways of magical defense, and he was pushed back all the way to where Chrom was, who was was kneeling and panting now, leaning on a grounded Falchion for support.

Canis whipped her hand into the air, sparks trailing from her fingertips as she murmured words under her breath. Chrom's eyes went wide. "She… she hasn't done that yet. I've got a bad feeling about this."

Canis brought her hand down, firing what Frederick could only assume was a Thoron spell at the pair. The two leapt to the right, only barely dodging the devastating attack. Canis simply smiled and immediately fired an Elthunder at Chrom. In an instant Frederick realized the prince would be unable to dodge or defend himself in time, and threw himself in front of the attack. The Elthunder struck him dead on, electricity surging through his body. Frederick swayed in the rain for a brief moment, smoke from his body and steam from the evaporating water mingling before he collapsed.

* * *

Robin shakily got to his feet, blood spilling from his mouth. He had no doubt some of his ribs had been broken, which was quite ironic given that this was the result of him smashing against a gigantic one. He didn't have any time to be amused though, as Frederick seemed to be down for the count and both Chrom and Donnel were desperately fighting for their lives. Donnel was managing to hold his own against Porcus, keeping him out of range with his spear while holding the Deadlord's advances at bay with his shortsword. Chrom was having less success, frantically dodging the spells cast by Canis and having a difficult time narrowing the distance between himself and her. Robin flipped open his tome, hastily muttering the incantation for Arcthunder. He was halfway through when disaster struck.

Porcus had managed to slip through Donnel's spear's range, forcing the boy to frantically parry the Risen's daggers as it unleashed a frenetic onslaught of blows. Seeking to regain control of the flow of battle, Donnel locked weapons with the Deadlord and managed to force him to a standstill. This would prove to be a mistake.

Time seemed to slow for Robin as Porcus opened his mouth in a bizarre manner, as if he were unhinging his jaws. Inhuman, needle-sharp teeth glistened before he lunged forward and bit into Donnel's shoulder. The boy screamed loud and long in pain and shock, distracting Chrom for a brief second. Canis took full advantage of this lapse in concentration and caught Chrom dead-center with an Arcfire spell, sending the lord tumbling through the sand, smoke billowing from his body. Robin tried to shout, but his voice caught in his throat as Porcus whipped his head back, tearing a chunk of flesh from Donnel large enough to make Robin gag. Even if they all got out of this alive, he knew Donnel's scream at that moment would haunt his nightmares. Donnel frantically swung his sword, forcing the Deadlord to retreat as it swallowed his flesh, but the damage was done. Donnel's spear slipped out of his right hand as blood streamed down his arm; Porcus had torn clean through his shoulder tendons.

Robin aimed his arms at Porcus before forcing himself to stop, realizing Chrom was utterly defenseless if he was unconscious. Donnel at least still had some capacity to defend himself. Robin cursed furiously and turned to face Canis again, firing a fully charged Arcthunder. Canis had been about to fire an Arcthunder of her own to finish Chrom off, and was forced to launch it prematurely in order to counter Robin's attack.

Robin strode forward, muttering under his breath. Full incantations were too slow for this fight; he was taking a serious risk and shortcutting the phrasings to speed up his casting time. He would need perfect control for this, else the spells were likely to go errant; Robin could easily blow a limb off, or worse. As he fired off spell after spell, he noted with satisfaction that he was keeping pace with Canis. His smirk was short-lived though.

Porcus lunged forward and jammed his blade into Donnel's gut. Robin's heart sunk.

_No._

Donnel gritted his teeth, then reared back and headbutted the Deadlord as hard as he could. Porcus stumbled backwards, blood streaming from his dagger as it was pulled from Donnel's waist. Donnel charged forward and tackled the Risen, bowling it over and sending the two tumbling through the sand. Robin looked desperately for an opening to intervene, but Canis's spellcraft was relentless and the tactician found himself forced on the defensive and unable to break free.

Donnel was back on his feet, and had picked up his discarded spear. He rushed at Porcus, intent on giving the Deadlord no opportunities to regain his footing. Porcus saw this, and to Robin and Donnel's shock, leapt up over the powerful thrust and landed nimbly on the spear's shaft, jarring it from Donnel's grip. Robin's eyes widened in horror.

_No!_

Robin's distraction and fatigue provided Canis an opening at that moment, one she remorselessly took. She fire off three Elthunders from her left hand in quick succession, the first of which Robin managed to deflect with an Elthunder of his own; the other two were dodged by hair's breadths. Unfortunately, the positioning of these spells had angled Robin in such a manner that he was off-kilter and unable to quickly readjust himself, leaving him defenseless as Canis brought her right hand to bear. The Arcfire struck Robin directly in the chest, knocking him backwards and sending him rolling across the mire. Canis raised her hand for the finishing blow when she hesitated, sensing something was wrong. Lightning struck in the distance, and out of her periphery vision she caught a blur of movement in the air above her.

Canis turned and looked up to see Chrom leaping towards her, Falchion held high as he moved to bring it down in a savage strike. The prince must have snuck up on her while she had been dueling the suddenly-improving tactician. Deadlords could not feel fear, but if they were able to, Canis would certainly have experienced it at that moment. She reared her undead steed back, but was too slow; screaming loudly, Chrom sliced through both Deadlord and mount, ichorous black blood trailing from his blade. The horse gave a strangled, ghastly cry before toppling over, dislodging its master. Canis hastily scrambled to her feet, clutching at the deep gash in her chest. She hurriedly shot an Arcfire at Chrom, but with his disadvantages in distance and height gone, the prince was able to deflect the brunt of the spell away from himself with the Fire Emblem without losing momentum. He was now directly upon the Deadlord, and Falchion hummed through the air as Chrom unleased a blistering onslaught. Canis was nimble and was managing to dodge the majority of Chrom's attacks, but the Deadlord was unable to get in a spell edgewise and was slowly but surely accumulating a number of cuts. "Your end has come!" Chrom yelled, increasing the intensity of his assault.

* * *

Donnel stepped backwards quickly, only barely avoiding having his throat cut as Porcus stepped forward. The Deadlord began raining blows upon Donnel, who was simply unable to counter them all with only one good arm. Realizing the inevitable outcome, Donnel shifted tactics, charging Porcus while ignoring the deep gash he took on his left arm and the blade that punctured his right lung. He ran the Deadlord through, blade sliding clean through the Risen's waist.

Donnel stared up at the Deadlord defiantly, blood streaming from his lips. "I am Donnel, knight of Ylisse!"

Porcus nodded in appreciation, then stabbed Donnel in the heart.

* * *

_Ma… I hope I… did ya proud…_ Donnel thought as his consciousness faded away. _Prince Chrom… Anna… Robin… everyone… ya'll take care…_

* * *

This… this couldn't be happening. Robin stared at Donnel's body as Porcus slowly turned towards Chrom. Robin trembled, sparks racing up and down his arms. "You… you BASTARD!" Robin snarled as tears ran down his cheeks. He felt something welling up inside of him, felt as if he was about to burst. A purple aura rose out of him unbidden, dancing with heatless flames. Robin didn't understand what was happening, and he didn't care. All he needed to know was the sense of unbridled power flowing through him, power unlike any he had ever felt before. Power enough to make the Deadlord pay for what he had done.

Robin screamed and brought his hands up, electricity crackling between them. He fired an enormous, incantationless Thoron spell at Porcus. The Deadlord spun to face him, clearly surprised by the strength of the tactician's spell. Porcus attempted to leap out of range, but was too late—the Deadlord was almost impossibly fast, but not quite fast enough.

The Thoron shredded through Porcus and continued onward, colliding with a dragon bone in a deafening explosion. As the dust cleared it could be seen that a massive gash had been sheared through the monolithic remains. A rib teetered before falling over with a loud boom, causing the ground to shake and sending enormous sprays of mud flying into the air. As Robin's eyes struggled to readjust to the darkness, he could faintly see a figure stand up. As lightning struck in the background Porcus became illuminated; heavily damaged but still very much functioning. Robin's spell had all but obliterated the Deadlord's entire right side, arm included, but had come just short of his spine. The injury was catastrophic and would've easily been fatal for a human, but the Risen seemed completely unfazed, simply staring at Robin as if nothing had happened. If the creature was impressed by Robin's accidental display of power, it didn't show it.

Robin sunk to his knees, feeling his unknown power fade away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him shuddering feebly. How? How was that thing still alive?

Porcus ran towards a defenseless Robin. The Deadlord's tattered cloak shifted as he moved, revealing a tattoo on what was left of his navel. Robin strained his eyes to make it out, and when he did he began to tremble.

_XII_.

"Y-you've got to be kidding me…" Robin gasped. Once more a memory rose to the forefront of his mind: _There can only be twelve Deadlords at any one time, and each is ranked according to their power; lowest to highest, strongest to weakest._

This thing was the _weakest_ of the Deadlords?!

As Porcus closed in, Robin felt despair enclose him. He couldn't even move, let alone defend himself. It was all over.

Robin saw a flash of silver, and Porcus was suddenly rolling away from him, landing in a defensive position.

"_Pick a god and pray!_" Frederick bellowed, stabbing ferociously at the wounded Deadlord. Robin wasn't sure when the Knight Commander had regained consciousness, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. Porcus dodged Frederick's strikes nimbly, but it was now becoming apparent that the injury Robin had inflicted on him was taking a toll.

Elsewhere on the battlefield a female cry rang out, grabbing the attention of Porcus. Chrom had landed a decisive blow on Canis, slicing through her right shoulder and incapacitating her arm. Porcus immediately disengaged from Frederick, sprinting towards Chrom with unmatchable speed. Frederick heaved his lance at the Risen, but Porcus deliberately angled himself so that the lance would only graze him, never breaking stride in spite of the impact.

"Robin! Use your magic! Take him down!" Frederick yelled.

"C-can't…" Robin wheezed, barely audible. "Sp-spent… everything… just then."

Porcus was upon Chrom now, who had been about to deal the coup de grace to Canis. Chrom spun, swinging wide with Falchion. Porcus ducked beneath the blow, lunging in at Chrom with his remaining dagger. Chrom brought Falchion around to deflect the strike, but Porcus had been anticipating this. The blades clashed, and the Deadlord spun his arm, knocking Falchion away before the Risen lashed out with a savage kick that caught Chrom in the solar plexus. Chrom staggered back, bringing Falchion up to defend against a blow that never came. Instead, Porcus had knelt down and pulled Canis onto his shoulder, quickly retreating from the prince.

Porcus stood there for a moment, before he moved his jaw in the same bizarre way as before. To Robin, Chrom, and Frederick's surprise, the creature opened its mouth and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

"_Well done, humans._"

Finished addressing the group, Porcus tilted his head to the female Deadlord draped over his shoulder. "_Canis,_" Porcus growled. The other Deadlord stirred and began to chant what Robin recognized as a teleportation spell. Robin's throat constricted at this realization.

"Chrom! Stop them!" He yelled desperately, unable to do anything himself in his weakened condition. Chrom raced towards the pair with Falchion angled low, giving a deep bellow. For a second, it looked as if he would make it in time, but white runes appeared around the Deadlords as Chrom swung. Porcus and Canis vanished into thin air a moment before Falchion passed through it. Chrom stood dazed for a moment, breathing heavily, before he reared back his head and roared. "_DAMMIT!_"

* * *

Chrom limped up to Robin and Frederick, who were kneeling before Donnel's body. With shaking hands, Chrom closed Donnel's eyes. _Only Donnel could look so peaceful after dying such a painful death_, Robin thought bitterly.

"This... this is my fault," Frederick murmured sorrowfully. "I left him to fight that thing all by himself."

Chrom shook his head. "You musn't think like that Frederick. If you hadn't come to my rescue, I'd probably be dead right now. Canis might've killed us all then." As much as Frederick tried to convince himself this was true, he had difficulty believing that he had done the right thing.

"Donnel died a warrior's death," Chrom continued. "We owe him a proper burial, and I'll be damned if the bards aren't singing about him a hundred years from now."

For the next few moments the falling of heavy rain was the only sound that could be heard. Finally, Robin spoke up. "Chrom… the other Deadlord, Canis… did she have a numbered tattoo anywhere on her body?"

Chrom thought back briefly, then nodded, remembering a glimpse as he had struck the Deadlord off her mount. "Yes. The old symbol for eleven, on her shoulder."

Robin just sat there trembling. All of a sudden he snapped, and began punching the ground again and again. "_Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!_"

Chrom and Frederick looked at each other in shock. They had never seen the tactician like this before.

"I'm so useless! I couldn't save them! I should be better than this! It's my job to protect them!" He broke down sobbing. "I-I couldn't… couldn't save them… Emm… Donny…"

"Robin…" Chrom murmured, unsure how to console his closest friend.

Frederick stooped down until he was at eye level with Robin. "Forgive me Robin. If you wish to have compensation for this act at a later time, I will gladly give it."

"Wh-what are you talking ab-ABRUGHH!" Robin yelped as Frederick punched him hard across the jaw, knocking him down. "Fr-Frederick! What the hell?!"

Frederick stared at him sadly. "We have all lost much this day. It is a burden we all share. You cannot be so selfless as to hoist all of our mistakes upon yourself. We have each failed. But we cannot despair. To despair is to make the sacrifices of our loved ones worthless. We still have people worth fighting for. Donnel was able to show me as much." The tactician stared wide-eyed at the Knight Commander, blood trickling from his split lip. "…You are a strong person Robin. You have long shouldered a weight that would break a lesser man. Now get on your feet, put that weight back on, and fight for your friends! Do not allow whatever forces conspire against us to steal away even one more precious comrade! If anyone can save them all, it is without doubt you!"

Chrom nodded. "Frederick is right. We owe so much to you, Robin. We trust you with our lives specifically because you cherish them so much, because losing them can cause you to grieve so deeply. And remember, you are not alone. You have us, and all of the Shepherds, to help you carry this monstrous burden."

Robin was quiet for some time. At last he spoke, a small measure of his old self in his voice once more. "Thank you, Frederick. I needed that. That doesn't mean I won't take you up on your offer about hitting you later but…" Robin extended his hand to Chrom. "…Chrom. Help me up. I can drown in my self-pity and regrets later. The others are still fighting. I'm not going to lose anyone else. Not as long as I have any breath left in my body."


	3. A Brighter Future II

**Author's Note: I was partway through a Henry-centric story when the idea for this struck me. I'm sure you all could use a bit of levity after how heavy that last chapter was. At any rate, I enjoyed writing this quite a bit.**

* * *

Gerome coughed into his hand. "Morgan? Might I have a word?"

Morgan stopped to look at him, then scowled and turned away with a huff. "Maybe... And maybe NOT!"

Gerome blinked. "Er, are you angry at me?"

Morgan wheeled around, an upset look on her face. "I went to a LOT of time and trouble to make those masks for you! And you just ran away! RAN! At top speed over hill and dale!"

Gerome winced. In an unsolicited effort to help Gerome be more expressive with his feelings, Morgan had designed and crafted a large number of masks, each fashioned to convey a specific emotion. Gerome had been less than enthused about the idea. He knew she meant well, but she had a tendency to go completely overboard whenever she got excited. Which was frequent.

Truth be told, Gerome refused the masks because Morgan's fashion sense was somehow even more terrible than Lucina's, something Gerome had thought utterly impossible. Of course, he would never, ever say this out loud.

"I know you are upset, but I simply cannot wear your masks." Gerome felt his heart sink as Morgan began to pout. "…Perhaps, however, it would offer some measure of apology if I removed this one?" He asked, pointing to his ever-present mask.

"...You'd do that?"

Gerome nodded. "If you are so determined to know what I am feeling, this is the easiest way."

"I dunno," Morgan muttered. "My masks are pretty great. I just finished Miffed last night... Ah, what's it matter?" Morgan asked deflatedly. "You don't need my masks if you walk around all barefaced."

Gerome shook his head. "This is not for everyone, Morgan. It is for you alone." With that, he removed his mask.

Morgan's jaw dropped. "SAAAAAAAAY!" She had known Gerome was a looker, but she hadn't been expecting this!

Gerome coughed nervously. "Well. Here I am. In the flesh, so to speak."

"Hubba hubba! Awoooooo-ga!" Morgan continued. Gerome flushed. He was used to being the target of female attention (much to Inigo's chagrin), but he had never been on the receiving end of such an enthusiastic reaction. Especially not from the woman he was in love with.

"Hee hee!" Morgan laughed. "I KNEW it! You're turning red as a boiled ham!"

Gerome's hand shot up to his face. "Even my nose?!"

"_Especially_ your nose!" She giggled. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

Gerome looked away bashfully. "I suppose it's because..." Bracing himself, he took the plunge. "Well, I like you. Very much, in fact." He glanced back up nervously.

Morgan's eyes went wide with delight. "Seriously? Because I suppose it's obvious, but I...um...like you, too."

Gerome smiled his first genuine smile in years, then abruptly leaned in and kissed Morgan. They parted after a few seconds, both breathing a bit heavily. "Er..." Gerome uttered. He wasn't used to being so spontaneous.

Morgan blushed as she fidgeted a bit. "...This _is_ embarrassing, isn't it?"

Gerome smiled again. "I see you're turning red as well."

" Er, I don't suppose I could maybe... borrow your mask?"

Gerome laughed. "Use your own! You have a whole bag of them right there!"

"Oh, right," Morgan exclaimed, rummaging through her bag. "Here, you can have the butterfly one, because you're so jolly..." she said, proffering the mask. She began to blush a bit harder. "And I'll wear this one with the hearts, because I'm feeling so... excited."

"Morgan, dear, do you have a mask for 'murderous'"?

"Uh, not quite yet. I had some technical difficulties with it. Why do you ask, Dad? …D-D-D-DAD?!"

Gerome wheeled around, reflexively slapping his default mask back onto his face. There stood Robin. A specified mask was not needed to display his intent. He smiled at Gerome in a predatory fashion.

"Wh-wha-what are you doing here, Dad?!" Morgan stammered.

"Good question! I should probably be with your mother or Chrom right now so that I'll have an alibi when Gerome here turns up face-down in a ditch tomorrow!"

Gerome chalked it up to temporary fear-induced hallucination, but he could've sworn that for a brief moment Robin's eyes had glinted red and his face had become shrouded in darkness.

Gerome gulped nervously. "R-Robin, s-sir. I wish to declare my intentions towards your daughter."

"Come, come, Gerome! I didn't expect this from you! You had wanted to keep yourself at arm's length, removed from this time, hadn't you? _How about I remove you from it permanently?_"

"Dad, wait!" Morgan cried.

"MINERVA, TO ME!" Gerome screamed.

The elder Minerva swooped in and landed in front of Robin, shrieking as she made to defend her master. Robin just kept smiling his most malicious grin, and without blinking reached out and scratched Minerva in that one particular spot just beneath her nostrils. The wyvern's eyes went wide as she began to hum, and she rolled over onto her side as Robin's hand trailed up a series of especially itchy areas, his eyes never leaving a now visibly stricken Gerome.

"You forget who you're dealing with, Gerome. Did you really think I hadn't developed a contingency plan for Minerva after all this time?" Electricity began to crackle at the fingertips of Robin's free hand. Gerome backed away slowly.

Morgan was about to attempt to step in when a second wyvern touched down, her rider in full-on protective-mother mode.

"Minerva says she heard Gerome crying out for help." Cherche called from atop her mount. "Would you care to explain why you look as if you're about to set my son on fire, Robin?"

"Hey now, I was _not_ about to set him on fire," Robin retorted. "I was going to electrocute him. _Then_ I was going to set him on fire."

"Hmm. How distressing," Cherche commented as she dismounted. "I came here expecting to find my son in danger, and instead I find an incident that threatens the entire army."

"…What?"

"It's just that I'm concerned that the Shepherds will have a difficult time winning their battles moving forward, since their tactician is going to be deceased quite shortly." At this the younger Minerva hissed threateningly.

"Ha! Please Cherche, I've already dealt with one Minerva today. What makes you think a second is going to slow me down?!"

"Why, whoever said anything about _Minerva_ killing you?" Cherche smiled sweetly as she hefted her axe.

"…Uh-oh."

* * *

"Honestly, Robin. You would think you of all people would be more understanding about this situation," Cherche admonished. Robin rubbed his ear gingerly where she had grabbed him by it before dragging him to make him sit down on a log. Morgan and Gerome had watched in stunned silence; they were relieved Robin and Cherche hadn't actually come to blows, but they had never seen Robin cowed so quickly before. Now they were just standing off to the side awkwardly, not really knowing what to do.

"Yeah, you're right. Now I get _exactly_ why Chrom threatened me with bodily harm all of those times."

"I understand being protective of your child, but you're being ridiculous, Robin. This reminds me of when Chrom tried to rope us all into 'Operation: Morgan's Gonna Have to Find a Different Future to Come From'."

"What?!"

Cherche cleared her throat. "Perhaps I've said too much. At any rate, Robin, you and Gerome are going to sit here and have a pleasant, mature conversation about my son's relationship with your daughter."

Gerome moved to protest. "Mother, I-"

"_Gerome._" Robin and Morgan both shuddered involuntarily.

"Y-yes, Mother."

"As for _you_," Cherche continued as she turned to Robin. "If I find even so much as a single hair misplaced on my son's head, I'll-"

"Feed me to Minerva. Yeah yeah, I know," Robin interrupted.

"No, I'll feed _parts_ of you to Minerva. I'll get creative with what's left. Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my patrol." With that the vassal turned and walked back to her wyvern.

"…Does everybody in this army threaten to kill each other?" Gerome muttered.

"It's how you know we care about one another," Robin joked. "…And for the record, I could totally beat your mother in a fight if I wanted to."

"Uh-huh. Morgan, could you please hand me the 'skeptical' mask?"

"And I can definitely still kill _you_," Robin threatened darkly. "I wonder if I can burn off your entire face off without ruining that mask of yours?" He pondered, scratching his chin in mock contemplation.

"Dad! Would you _please_ stop threatening him? Can't you talk about this like an actual grown-up?"

"Honey, Daddy recognizes that you are a grown woman who has the right to love whomever she does. That said, you are forbidden from dating until you're twenty-seven, whenever that might be."

Robin had only been half-joking, but his laugh died in his throat as Morgan's lip began to quiver and tears began to well up in the corner of her eyes.

"Ah geez, wait Morgan, I-"

"You're such a jerk sometimes, Dad!"

Robin reeled back as if he had been struck.

"I'm the happiest I've been since I found you and Mom, and you don't even care! You're too busy having your little freakout to even consider how I feel, or to think about what I want! Would you have wanted Mom treated like this?!"

Robin winced. …Ok, maybe he _was_ overreacting a little. He got up, walking over to a shaking Morgan. "I'm sorry, Morgan," he said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're right, I'm not being fair to you. I'm not handling this well because this being a father thing is still kind of new to me, and my primary frame of reference on the subject is a genocidal maniac who I don't even know that well. I don't want to see you get hurt, but I shouldn't smother you either. Can you forgive me?"

Morgan allowed herself to be pulled into a hug, grumbling under her breath.

"…Mask."

"…Huh?" Robin asked.

"I want you to promise you're going to give me and Gerome a fair chance. While wearing one of my masks."

"…You can't be serious," Robin stated matter-of-factly, holding Morgan at arm's length while looking at her. "Why do I have to wear one of these things?"

Morgan pouted, nudging her satchel of masks towards him with her foot. "_Someone_ has to..."

"Ugh. Fine," Robin relented. "Where's the 'I'm only putting up with this to placate my eccentric time-child daughter' mask?"

Morgan dug through the bag. "Here, you can wear Sincere," Morgan pronounced, handing Robin a white mask with sparkles and polka dots all over it. He held it gingerly as if it were some diseased vermin. Good gods, how was Morgan's taste so gaudy? Robin found Lucina's utter lack of understanding about fashion sense adorable, but even he had limits.

"…Go ahead. Put it on," She prompted. Hand shaking slightly, Robin reluctantly complied.

"…Wellllll?" She asked expectantly.

"…I promise that I won't hurt Gerome and that we'll have a legitimate conversation about your relationship. There. Better?"

Morgan rushed forward and kissed Robin on the cheek. "Yup! Thanks Dad!"

Robin smiled at his daughter. "Why don't you see if you can help your mother out with dinner duty?"

"Ok! Love you Dad!"

"Love you too, dear."

With that Morgan bounded off. As soon as she was out of sight Robin hastily removed the mask and dropped it in the pouch. He walked back to the log where Gerome had sat silently observing them the whole time, dropping down to sit with a heavy sigh. Neither said a word for a few minutes, before Robin finally broke the awkward quiet.

"…So. Why should I trust you with my daughter?"

Gerome sighed. "…I had told Morgan that this was a gesture I would not give any save for her, but I wish you to know my sincerity. Please do not tell her about this."

Robin couldn't help but quirk his eyebrows in surprise as Gerome removed his mask, staring at Robin intensely.

"I…I had given up hope on reclaiming our future. Having seen Grima up close, I had thought it impossible to prevail against him. He is more terrifying that you can ever know, Robin. He is despair incarnate, the envoy of hell. When I traveled back with Lucina, I held no illusions about succeeding. Far greater men and women than we had failed utterly. What chance did a ragtag group of children have?"

Robin sat silently, digesting this information as he watched Gerome. It was so bizarre seeing how animated the young man's face could be; having relied on the mask to hide his feelings for so long, it was clear that without it he was devoid of subterfuge.

"I separated myself from the others after we arrived. I had joined them for my own selfish reasons… I had no noble aspirations; I simply wished to spend what time I had been given with Minerva before our doom descended upon us once more. I avoided you all, my parents especially, because I refused to reunite with my loved ones only to have them torn from my life yet again. I was a shell of a man, living as if already dead. I spurned my mother and my father when you found me, and only joined your cause with great reluctance. I believed it all to be a fool's errand, a futile gesture in the face of unchangeable fate."

Gerome suddenly smiled. "And then I met Morgan. Proof that our future _could_ be changed. For the first time in years, I felt the faint light of hope once more. But I stifled it, refusing to open myself up. I tried to keep my distance from her as well. Of course, Morgan is not the type of person who allows herself to be kept away. She was persistent in reaching out to me, and I felt myself inexplicably drawn towards her. Perhaps it was because my heart had been left in disuse for so long that it took me some time to realize my feelings for her… But know this, Robin. Morgan is no longer a symbol of a brighter future to me. She _is_ the future that I strive for."

Robin snorted. Well _that_ sounded familiar. Was this how Chrom had felt during their talk? …Still, Morgan could do much worse than Gerome. As much as the man pretended to be aloof, Robin knew he was protective of his friends and fiercely loyal, and Lucina held him in high esteem. Having Virion as a brother-in-law wouldn't be terrible either.

Robin sighed. "Gerome, please hand me the 'I still kind of want to strangle you but I'm going to give you a chance so don't screw this up' mask."

Gerome stared at Robin blankly. "Umm…"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I realize that's not an actual mask, you dolt. Look, I know the whole 'falling in love with a time traveler' thing isn't easy. I get it. I really do. So I'm willing to give you a bit of slack here. Just be grateful I'm not your best friend." He coughed awkwardly. "...Also, I should probably make it clear I wasn't actually trying to kill you. Just wanted to scare you a little."

Gerome smiled. "Thank you, Rob-"

"_That said,_" Robin interrupted. "If you ever do _anything_ to hurt my little girl, that mask you wear will be the only way they'll be able to identify your corpse."

Gerome gulped and nodded frantically. "Y-yessir."

Robin got to his feet, brushing off his cloak. "Welp, glad we had this little chat. You can go find Morgan now. I'm sure she'd appreciate some assurance that I haven't done away with you or something. You're allowed to hold hands. …And one kiss a day. But that's it. Anything more and I'll beat the everliving hell out of you."

Gerome nodded and slipped his mask back on as he stood up. His usual stoic expression immediately settled back on his face. "Thank you, Robin. I swear to you, I will make her happy." With that he turned and strode purposefully towards the mess tent where Morgan had headed.

Robin sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "You had damn well better."

* * *

"Honestly, you are _such_ a child sometimes," Lucina chuckled later that night. "You're acting just like Father did when he found out about us."

"Yeah, well, let's just say I'm a bit more understanding of Chrom's point of view now. …Not that that would have ever kept me from you," Robin whispered huskily as he embraced her from behind.

Lucina giggled, placing her hands over Robin's and leaning her head against his as it rested on her shoulder. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad Morgan fell in love with someone we can trust. Gerome is a good man and a close friend. It will be a bit strange adjusting to him being our son-in-law, but for Morgan's sake I'm sure we can manage."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way. Say, Lucina, how do you feel about the prospect of being a grandmother in a couple of years?"

Lucina's eyes went wide as she spun in Robin's arms to face him. "…Gerome must die. It's the only option."

Robin began laughing heartily as Lucina buried her face in his chest, mortified.

* * *

"…So yeah, Chrom. I just wanted to let you know I forgive you for the whole 'I'll kill you if you touch my daughter' thing you had going on with me. I kind of know where you were coming from now."

Chrom chuckled as he slapped Robin on the back. The tactician had insisted on joining him on the morning patrol the day after Morgan and Gerome had confessed to each other.

"Just be glad your daughter fell in love with someone you and Lucina actually like. What if she had fallen for Vaike?" Chrom shuddered.

Robin cringed. He was actually a bit fond of the musclehead, but there was no way in hell he would ever let "The Teach" touch his daughter. "Yeah, I guess you're right… You know, technically this will make Gerome your grandson," Robin pointed out.

"Heh. Well, when Gerome _Jr._ comes bouncing along, _I'll_ at least be able to remind _you _that you're a grandpa," Chrom teased.

"Sure thing, great-grandfather," Roblin replied without missing a beat.

Chrom stopped dead in his tracks.

_Ah. But- He… I…_

Robin paused, turning to where his friend and father-in-law stood. "Chrom? Are you… are you _crying_?" He asked in disbelief.

"N-no! *sniff* …Sh-shut up!"


	4. Henry

The scout burst into the Plegian barracks, breathing heavily. His commander turned to address him, visibly concerned by the seeming urgency of the missive.

"S-Sir!" the soldier wheezed. "General Mustafa has fallen, and his surviving forces have deserted en masse! The Ylisseans have broken through the Midmire and are nearing the border! We have been given orders to intercept them!"

The commander stepped back, hand going to his forehead. Mustafa? Dead? A terrible blow to the Plegian army; the man had been well-loved throughout the military and his loss would be heavily felt. And yet, the captain could not find it in his heart to hate the Ylisseans; he thought once more to their Exalt. For the first time in his life, he was questioning the justice Plegia had set out to administer to Ylisse for its barbarous crusade. …Still, they had their duty to fulfill.

"…Very well. Men, we leave in ten minutes. Ready yourselves and form up before then. We'll-" The commander was cut short as something caught his eye. "…You there. Dark Mage. Why are you shaking? Are you alright?"

In response, the Dark Mage raised his hand and fired a Ruin spell directly into the commander's chest, shredding it like paper. The commander staggered back before falling over, making a horrific gurgling sound as blood splattered across the barracks floor. His murderer stood over him, never once opening his eyes as he began to laugh.

"Nyahahaha! Don't mind me! I wouldn't want to RUIN the moment! Ahahahaha!"

The surrounding soldiers roused themselves from their shock, surrounding the white-haired, ever-grinning Dark Mage, each man drawing their weapon or tome of choice. The young man kept laughing in spite of the imminent danger he had placed himself in.

Abruptly, he stopped, eyes opening wide for the first time that any of his comrades had ever seen. Some had occasionally glimpsed the boy's eyes, and consensus was they were a light grey, but none had ever seen closely enough for confirmation. Now, as the Dark Mage turned and regarded each of them in kind, many a man wished that the wiry youth had been born blind. His gaze was far too intense; it whispered of the boy's insanity.

"…Gods _dammit_! This isn't funny. This isn't funny at all!" The soldiers involuntarily took a step backwards; they had never heard the white-haired Dark Mage even slightly upset before, let alone the fury his voice now carried.

_Mustafa? Dead?!_ Henry began to shake once more, the phantom taste of peaches lingering on his tongue. Whenever he had sat with Mustafa watching the sunset, he had felt a sense of peace, the kind he only felt when killing somebody.

No… only now could Henry admit that that feeling had been far more profound.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Henry slowly flipped open his Ruin tome. He spoke again, his tone disturbingly level and quiet.

"Now then. Let's begin."

* * *

Henry strolled out of the barracks, not bothering to step around the massive pool of blood spilling out from it. Normally he would be enthralled by the substance, but he was far too preoccupied at the moment to take notice,

_Hmmm…. now what to do?_ Henry pondered to himself. Revenge against Gangrel was his first instinct; no matter how you sliced it, the king was to blame for this mess. Henry had never liked Gangrel; even he could tell that the Mad King's mind was more twisted than his own. Henry decided against this course though, for two reasons: One, he was uncertain he could even best Gangrel one-on-one (though the prospect excited him immensely); Gangrel lived and breathed killing, it was all he knew now. …Admittedly, Henry was not very different in that regard. And two; Gangrel was his best shot at finding a war without end. The Mad King would never stop until he had buried every last Ylissean.

Perhaps he should join up with the Shepherds? ...No, that was definitely out. He needed them all alive for their inevitable clash with Gangrel, and Henry was sure he would wind up killing some of them as he was right now. A viable future prospect, but for now it would be best to keep his distance.

Henry decided his best course of action would be to lay low for a while. He could kill from the shadows, he reflected as he nonchalantly slit the throat of the sentry, and this would give him the freedom to move to-and-fro interesting battles. He placed his hands on his hips as he walked outside the fort. It wouldn't be as much fun as being on the frontlines, but then again, a crow could still survive on scraps.

* * *

**Carrion Isle, 2 Years Later**

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Henry said excitedly to himself as he slid down a slope, careful not to scrape himself on any rocks. He loved a good gaping chest wound as much as the next fellow, but scrapes were the _worst_.

Chrom and the Shepherds were here. He hadn't expected them to ever come back to Plegia after putting Gangrel in the ground, but apparently the Valmese Empire was such a threat the Ylisseans were sucking up their pride and asking their former enemies for help. If they were that desperate, then this war was going to be _really_ fun, and there was no chance Henry was going to miss out on that.

Henry darted through the woods, easily making his way through the thick tangle of trees. Overhead, he could hear his avian friends stirring and greeting him. Henry liked crows a lot; they were much smarter than most animals and had fascinating trains of thought. The crows for their part liked Henry as well, as he was always willing to let them feed off a fresh corpse.

He skidded to a stop at a ravine. "Hmm. Now which way did I see them headed? I can't remember FEATHER or not it was left or right! Nyahahaha!"

Henry's ears perked up as he heard the unmistakable sounds of blade striking blade and steel sliding through flesh. Ooh, had the festivities started already? As Henry had expected, Validar was making some sort of attempt on Chrom's life. He had to hurry if he wanted to ingratiate himself to the Exalt so that he could participate in the Valmese campaign.

Having located the vicinity from which the sound of battle was coming, Henry took off towards it, tomes at ready. He broke through to a clearing, expecting to find Risen fighting the Shepherds. To his surprise, it was something else entirely. Ten Plegians soldiers had surrounded a blue-haired swordsman, who was fighting desperately for his life. He was about Henry's size, was clothed in blue, and wore a bizarre butterfly mask. Henry's eyes imperceptibly widened a tiny bit as he realized the swordsman was carrying Chrom's sword, that Falcon-thingy or whatever. Now _this_ was interesting. Wasn't there supposed to be only one of those?

The swordsman was quite good. Two soldiers had already been felled. However, he had sustained a number of deep cuts: one on his side, one on his left thigh, and one on his right forearm. Injured and outnumbered eight-to-one, the odds were stacked impossibly against this man; without intervention it was certain he would die.

Henry shrugged and flipped open his Flux tome, slaying three men in as many seconds. The remaining combatants turned to him in surprise, to which he responded with a smile and a wave. The swordsman hesitated for a second, then ran through the breach in the enemy's formation Henry had created for him, coming to stand side-by-side with the Dark Mage. The soldiers looked at each other nervously; what had been a sure victory was now looking more and more risky. Still, to their credit, they held their resolve and charged the pair. Henry had to admit, he liked their guts. He couldn't wait to hold those in his hands.

The battle was short and messy; the mystery swordsman quickly dispatched a soldier as Henry killed one and blew the sword arm off another. The two remaining uninjured men stepped back at the man's screams, which Henry abruptly silenced by blasting the poor soldier's face off. Quickly looking to each other, the survivors turned and fled.

"Nyahahaha! Nope!" Henry cried with glee as he set the unfortunate men ablaze with an Elfire spell.

The swordsman stared at the burning corpses for a few moments, breathing heavily. The revulsion was plain on what Henry could see of the man's face, which he noted was surprisingly young and feminine. Actually, now that he thought about it, this swordsman didn't seem all that manly at all.

Breathing finally under control, the swordsman turned to Henry. "You… You have my thanks." Henry could tell the voice was false, a layer of artificial deepness being forced upon it. Interesting. This swordsman was definitely hiding something. Maybe that mask covered up horrible, horrible scarring? Ooh, that would be great!

Henry gave a grin that said "_don't worry about it_", and walked over to one of the bodies he had used Flux on, where he crouched and experimentally began to pick at the dead man's flayed face.

"…May I ask your name?" The swordsman asked. Henry noted that he hadn't sheathed his sword yet.

"Rude. You should give yours first, shouldn't ya?" Henry responded, still fixated on the corpse.

"You may call me Marth," he replied curtly.

"Oh, like the Hero-King? Well aren't we pretentious!"

Marth bristled at this but said nothing.

"Anyway, I'm Henry. Nice to meetcha," he said, as he turned to face Marth with an unnerving grin.

Marth stiffened a bit. "_You're_ Ini-?" The swordsman clamped his mouth shut, as if he had been about to say something he shouldn't. Henry cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him."…You're a Plegian, are you not?" Marth continued. "Why did you come to my aid? Why did you kill your countrymen?"

"Oh, don't read too deeply into that," Henry shrugged. "I just felt like killing those guys. That's all there is to it."

"…Then why did you not attempt to kill me as well?" Marth asked warily.

Henry tilted his head theatrically. "Hmmm. Great point!" Without preamble, he fired a Flux spell at Marth, who hastily rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet.

"What madness has beset you?" he cried out.

Henry just laughed in reply, lobbing more Flux spells at Marth. He had to admit, the swordsman was good. Even with those wounds, Marth was managing to dodge Henry's attacks admirably. Growing bored with his inability to cause the swordsman further injury with lowly Flux spells, Henry whipped out a Ruin tome and fire the spell at the ground at Marth's feet, sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop. Henry raised his hand to finish the job when he noticed something on the ground. It was Marth's mask. He looked back to the man, who was shakily getting to his feet, Falto or whatever it was called clutched tightly in his grip. He-

_Wait a second. Not "he"!_

Today was just going to be one surprise after another, wasn't it? "Marth" stared at Henry defiantly. _Her_ face was disappointingly unmarred; it was beautiful in fact, fierce and regal. Long azure tresses had been knocked out of whatever bizarre place she had been hiding them, and now that Henry looked a bit more closely, it was obvious that "Marth"s figure had belonged to a woman all along.

"Well well well well _well_!" Henry chuckled. He certainly hadn't expected this. The girl gave him a fierce scowl, clearly preparing for another attack. Henry simply shook his head, put away his tome, and put his hands behind his head, smiling. "Nah, relax girlie. Suddenly I don't feel like killing you anymore."

Marth stepped back, visibly confused. "Are you looking down on me because I am a woman?"

"Nyahahaha! Calm down, you're seriously overthinking this. It's simple, I really just don't have any interest in killing you. For the moment, at least…"

Marth eyed him skeptically, not sure she could believe him in the slightest.

"Still, it _is_ really weird that you're a girl! I honestly thought you were a man at first! I wonder if it's because your chest is so flat…?"

Marth's eye twitched, and she swung at Henry with Falchion as he hopped away, cackling with delight.

"Hey now! That's just uncalled for! Nyahahaha!"

"Un-uncalled for?!" Marth spluttered. "You were trying to kill me just a minute ago!"

"And now I'm not. So what's your beef?"

Marth looked at him with an incredulous look. _This_ was the famed Henry? He was nothing like the stories she had heard of him; the man seemed as insane as Gangrel or Validar.

"But say, where did you get that sword?" Henry continued. "Last I checked that Chrom guy had it, and I would be really disappointed if something had happened to him." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Marth did not care for what she could only feel was an implication of desired violence against the Exalt. She sank into a combat stance. Henry was dangerous, and a potential threat to Chrom. If her information was to be believed he was supposedly an ally, but could she take such a risk as trusting this deranged man?

She was jarred from her thoughts as Henry suddenly stood ramrod straight, ears twitching as he turned a bit to his left. An enormous, terrifying smile crept onto his face.

"Can you hear that, Marth? Can you hear the sound of battle? The sound of blood being spilt?" He licked his lips in a most unnerving manner. Suddenly he reached into his cloak and held aloft a vial. He unstopped it and took a quick swig, then stoppered it again and tossed it to a surprised Marth.

"Elixir," he explained as Marth fumbled to catch it. "You need it more than I do and I assume you're gonna want to come fight. Wouldn't be any fun if you died from blood loss, nyahahaha!"

Marth eyed the concoction suspiciously—elixirs were a rare and potent commodity that were nearly as efficient as healing staves; she had difficulty believing Henry would part with it just like that. If she hadn't already seen him drink from it she wouldn't trust it at all.

"Welp, I'll be seeing you. Gotta go meet Chrom!" Henry said cheerfully, before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a flock of crows that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Marth's eyes went wide and she rushed towards the avian tempest. "Wait! You know where Chrom is?!" She was too late, though, as the cloud of crows suddenly dispersed, and Henry was nowhere to be seen. Marth stood in place for a moment, considering this turn of events. Henry was clearly more powerful than he let on; teleportation magic was some of the most difficult to master in the world; and until now she had never seen a Dark Magic variant of the ability. She glanced down to the vial of elixir again. It was clear that in her condition Henry could've killed her at any time he wished; why poison her and not even stick around to see her die? Furthermore, her fa- …Chrom was certainly in danger; whether or not Henry was counted as part of that danger was irrelevant. Marth cursed her carelessness; if she had been more vigilant and hadn't allowed herself to be ambushed by that Plegian patrol she wouldn't be in this state in the first place. She swigged the vile-tasting brew and grimaced, already feeling the healing serum's effects as it set to work on repairing her injuries. Marth did a few stretches to make sure her body was responding properly, then took off south, where she could see smoke starting to billow up into the sky.

* * *

Chrom was on edge. He hadn't exactly expected things to go smoothly with the new king of Plegia, but what had happened between Validar and Robin was probably the worst scenario possible short of an outright declaration of war against Ylisse. The revelation of Robin's parentage was an unpleasant shock, and now they were dealing with organized Risen, most likely pawns of Validar himself. Chrom wouldn't be surprised if Deadlords were amongst them; this seemed like exactly the kind of scenario where Validar would deploy them if they were under his command. Chrom grimaced. As much as he desired vengeance for Donnel, he was wary of rushing headlong into a battle with those... _things_. The Shepherds were all without exception far stronger than they had been two years ago, but who could say that that would be enough to defeat multiple Deadlords?

Suddenly a writhing mass of darkness appeared in front of him, a figured inside it shrouded by blackness.

_A Deadlord?! Already?!_

Chrom shielded his face with his forearm as he was buffeted by wind. "Wh-what's that? A storm of... crows?!" He asked in disbelief, as the outlines of birds became visible and he saw feathers flying through the air. He noted with some alarm that the writhing mass of birds was heading straight towards him. "Gods, it's upon us!"

"CAW! CAW!" A voice cackled. "Are you folks lost? Or perhaps a lost CAWs? Heh ha!"

Yes, Henry was sure he was going to enjoy his tenure with the Shepherds.


	5. Flames on the Blue

"Ah, take it all in!" Robin exclaimed as he spread his arms wide, gazing out into the sprawling blue seas. The view from the helm of _Fighting Fate_ was extraordinary. "Breathtaking... Somehow our troubles feel a lifetime away out here."

"Yet in truth, we're headed straight toward them..." Chrom said, pensive. "I should be grateful the Plegians delivered us this fleet, as promised. But it's my first time on a vessel, and my legs... I never fancied myself a sea captain." He gave a queasy look as the ship was jostled by a small wave.

"This is my first voyage as well," Lucina noted. She found it fascinating that seawater had been blue before Grima's resurrection. "In my time, all ships were destroyed. Smashed to pieces, along with their ports."

Chrom frowned. "Lucina... Something I've been meaning to ask... After you stopped Emm's assassination... Why didn't you stay with us?"

Lucina winced, a guilty look coming across her face. "I felt I had no other choice. I could not risk altering history any more than necessary. I sought only to divert events that directly led to Grima's return."

"Hey, so wait—what about the guys who tried to kill Chrom in the gardens?" Lissa asked. "What would've happened if you didn't save him?"

"He would have been gravely wounded. And those wounds would have played a part in the tragedies to come."

"Whoa!" Lissa exclaimed, impressed by her niece's accomplishment in foiling the assassination attempt. "Good thing you changed things, huh?"

"If indeed they have changed... The river of time always favors its original course. Take the exalt's death... I stalled it, yes, but in the end I was not able to prevent it." Lucina stared at the deck with a downcast expression, still clearly haunted by her failure to save Emmeryn.

Chrom patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "...You did what you could."

"I was so certain it was over. That I'd saved the world," She said bitterly. "But time simply found another way back to its course. Perhaps the task is simply too great... Perhaps if I'd done something differently? I replay events in my head, over and over..."

Chrom shook his head. "Don't. You did your best. And you saved me, after all," he added with a grin.

Lucina gave a weak smile. "You're kind, Father. But nothing is certain..." Lucina gave Robin a sideways glance. "Another could take your life. Time could find a way..."

Chrom crossed his arms, frowning. "...Do you know how I die?"

Lucina flinched. "Only rumors... I was told you fell in a great battle, fought to sway your destiny. ...And that you were murdered—betrayed by someone…" She shot Robin another quick glance, and this time he noticed. "…dear to you," she completed tersely.

As these words left Lucina's lips, Robin felt a searing pain course through his head, much like the time on Carrion Isle. He staggered backwards, giving a small gasp of pain as he clutched his head. The dream that was his first true memory, that horrible nightmare of himself killing Chrom, ran through his mind unbidden. Suddenly Robin understood why his dreams were plagued with that horrible scenario over and over, and why Lucina seemed to despise him in spite of his best efforts to reach out to her. Everything fell into place all at once, and the realization hit Robin so hard that he felt like a building had collapsed on top of him.

The Robin of Lucina's time had murdered Chrom. Perhaps he had done even worse things.

_Ah. No wonder she hates me._

"Robin? What is it?" Chrom asked in concern.

"M-my head... I don't..." Robin waved his hand dismissively, and with some effort straightened himself as the migraine abated. "F-forgive me. I'm fine."

Lucina was quiet for several moments, making little effort to hide the suspicion on her face. At last, she turned to Chrom and continued. "After your murder and Grima's return, I took the name Marth and fought back. I prayed to the Hero-King for a small part of the strength he used to save the world. But I need this subterfuge no longer." Lucina gave a small smile. "I choose to fight as Lucina now. The name that reminds me of the strength in the man and woman who chose it."

Chrom smiled back at her. "A strength shared by the woman who bears it. Would you like to hear the story of how your mother and I decided on your name? We had…"

Robin mentally tuned Chrom out as he walked to ship's railing. He stared out into the vast sea; it had felt majestic and wondrous to him before, but now it seemed desolate, a gaping expanse of emptiness. Robin wondered if it would be better for everyone if he were to throw himself overboard here and now. The only difference he could claim between himself and the other Robin was his amnesia. Would he try to kill Chrom the instant he regained his memories? If so, Robin's own life was a small price to pay to protect his closest friend, let alone the entire world.

_…No. I'm still needed here. But after we're through with Valm, I can… deal with myself._

From behind him, Lucina continued to observe the tactician while trying to stay engaged in listening to her father's story. She was troubled; she had gone over multiple scenarios in her head about this moment, the revelation of Robin's intentions. She had never expected her father to even consider the possibility that Robin would kill him; he was far too trusting. But Robin's reaction had been baffling. Feigned anger or ignorance, Lucina could understand. Fear of having been found out, she could understand. But Robin's haunted look in his eyes was nothing she had been prepared for. That mixture of anguish, guilt, and self-doubt… it was almost as if he was afraid of _himself_.

* * *

"The pegasus knights report the Valmese fleet matches ours, ship for ship," Frederick reported.

Chrom frowned. "Your tone tells me this is not good news."

"Their troops vastly outnumber ours. Our vessels are half-full, at best. But every Valmese ship is packed from stem to stern with soldiers."

Chrom rubbed his chin. "If we attempt to board them in a straight fight, we'll be slaughtered," he concluded.

"We've little choice but to try anyway," Flavia declared. "Plegia had no men to spare, but they were generous with other supplies...including oil. Perhaps a clever tactician could find a use for that." She looked at said tactician meaningfully. Robin didn't notice at first, lost in his thoughts about Lucina's earlier revelation, and only stirred when Flavia gave a deliberate and irritated cough.

"Huh? Er… Hmm... Perhaps he could."

Flavia's eyes lit up. "If we can put their ships to flame, they'd have nowhere to escape to. We could—"

"You could roast us all like hams! Are you truly so eager to die, woman?!" Basilio interrupted incredulously.

"Do you have a better idea, oaf?!" Flavia snapped defensively. "...The problem is we have no catapults. Hmm... How to get the lit oil on their decks without our own ships getting caught in the blaze?

Robin scratched his chin. "Hmm..." Hard as he try, he couldn't think of a way. He decided to abandon that line of thought, and try approaching the problem from a different angle. What was important was setting the Valmese fleet ablaze; the chosen method was secondary. They could afford to lose a few ships as long as the enemy's entire fleet went under. Robin's eyes went wide as an idea occurred to him. "…Unless we _want_ our ships caught in the blaze..."

Basilio looked at him as if he had sprouted Taguel ears. "Why in the gods' names would..." He sighed in exasperation. "Well, I know better than to question Robin. Especially not when he has that look in his eyes. Gods save us from what he's cooked up this time—let's just hope it's not us!"

Robin smiled. "Chrom, I have an idea."

Chrom grinned. "Those words from your mouth are music to my ears, Robin."

"But," Robin interjected while holding up a finger. "For my plan to work we'll need to disrupt their chain of command... Our strongest team would need to board their lead ship and kill their general. As our best captain I'd have you head the squad, Chrom, but you _are_ the prince, so..."

"Yes, I _am_ the prince, so no one can order me _not_ to go. I will lead the assault!"

Robin chuckled. Chrom was so predictable sometimes. "Then this plan truly stands a chance."

"Heh..." Chrom paused, looking out at the sea reflectively. "So much has changed since we found you that day, lying in the open field... Hard to believe you determine the fate of our entire army now...our entire people. Destiny has a strange way."

Robin mulled that word over in his head. He found he disliked it intensely. He was tired of things being beyond his control. Validar, Grima, the Hierophant, the future Robin, his memories… to hell with all of them. Things were different this time around. Who was to say _he_ couldn't be different?

As Chrom had taken to saying recently, anything could change.

"...No, Chrom. Not destiny."

"What?"

"We're not pawns of some scripted fate. I believe we're more. Much more."

_I will not dance on fate's strings. Even if I have to cut them myself._

"How do you mean?" Chrom asked.

Robin paused for a moment, trying to think of how best to explain this feeling. How he depended on those close to him to find his strength. How he would just be an empty marionette without them. How he was willing to do whatever it took to protect them and the bonds he had created with them. How he could sense those same connections spread throughout the entire group of Shepherds.

"There's something between us all. Something that keeps us together... Like...invisible ties, connecting us. Giving us strength... _We_ forged these ties. _We_ strengthen them. If we preserve them," Robin hesitated for a moment. "…Or break them, it will be by our choices, not some "destiny"..."

Robin was keenly aware of Lucina watching him off to the side now. He winced as he realized how self-serving his impromptu speech must have sounded to her. He glanced at her, expecting that cold, harsh look he had sadly become accustomed to. Much to his surprise, she seemed almost… contemplative.

Chrom stared at Robin blankly, then began to laugh. "...Robin... I think this salty air might have gone to your head, hah!"

"All right, all right—perhaps enough philosophy for one day..." Robin muttered, now somewhat embarrassed. "There are still details to discuss."

"Indeed there are!" Chrom exclaimed. "And preparations to be made! Oh, and, Robin... If we are all bound by these invisible ties, I thank the gods it's with you."

Robin opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't bring himself to do so.

_I fear you coming to regret those words…_

"Now then, everyone!" Chrom called. "Look lively! We have work to do!"

* * *

The Valmese Admiral, Ignatius, collapsed his spyglass. Something about this Ylissean formation was off. It was clear that they were preparing for some sort of first strike, but their layout was not conducive to a full-on attack. What seemed more likely was that they were after him and his flagship, _Conqueror's Reach_. But for what purpose? Even if they succeeded in killing him, they would incur heavy losses doing so, and for little gain; a fleet as large as theirs of course had quickly enactable plans should he fall. Ignatius thought to the rumors he had heard about the Ylissean tactician and his unorthodox methods. Could it be he was deliberately seeking to create that brief opening in order to put one of those unusual plans of his into action?

Well, two could take advantage of this thinking. Whatever the tactician was planning, it would probably require precise coordination, and could fall apart without proper direction. The Ylissean flagship would likely be left lightly guarded in favor of fortifying the strike team. If it were to be brought down by surprise…

Ignatius turned to one of his captains. "Prepare _The Derelict_. I don't know what game these Ylisseans are playing at, but we will force them to participate on our terms."

* * *

Robin paced the deck of _Fighting Fate_ restlessly. It had been so long since he hadn't participated in a mission on the frontlines, but he had never attempted anything like this before. He needed as much perspective on the overall flow of battle as he could get right now, and that necessitated watching it from a distance.

"Explain to me again, Tactician, why you would not allow me to accompany my father."

Robin scowled. He did not need _this_ right now.

"Because, _Lucina_, you're still injured from that last Risen attack," Robin snapped. "You can't fight at full efficiency right now, and we can't afford Chrom worrying about you or vice versa in the middle of such a delicate operation. Will you settle down and leave me to my work?" He asked irritatedly. "I handpicked Chrom's personal guard for this mission. He'll be fine without you. Just focus on being on lookout for incoming pegasus knights."

Lucina glared daggers at him, then gave a huff and walked away so that she could resume her vigil of her father's assault on _Conqueror's Reach_.

Robin wasn't entirely sure why this bothered him so much. He had liked to think that he got along with every Shepherd, had been proud of it, in fact. Lucina's arrival had marked a blemish on this perfect record. The princess undermined his authority at every step, questioning most everything he did. That he now understood _why_ she acted like this towards him, and him alone, did little to alleviate the unpleasant feelings her disdain invoked.

He noticed with a mixture of relief and concern that Chrom had made his way to the Valmese Admiral, and was now engaged in a one-on-one duel while the Shepherds held the line and prevented any interference. Robin gave a slight frown; the plan had been to kill Ignatius as quickly as possible and by any means, honor be damned. There were too many lives hanging in the balance to play fair; his entire plan was based on this philosophy.

He and Lucina both breathed a loud sigh of relief as Chrom ran Ignatius through. Chrom leaned in for a few moments as the Valmese Admiral whispered his last words. Ignatius looked directly at _Fighting Fate_, where he could likely make out Robin's figure, and, said three words before dying.

Robin was not the most skilled of lip readers, and the distortion of the spyglass didn't help, but he was almost certain those three words had been "_You have lost_".

_What the hell was that supposed to mean?_

Chrom closed the dead man's eyes, then pulled Falchion out of him and resumed fighting. _Conqueror's Reach_ was soon under Ylissean control, and Chrom was making a direct course back to _Fighting Fate_. It looked like everything was going to go off without a hitch, when suddenly a Valmese ship rammed _Conqueror's Reach_. Fighting immediately broke out anew, and Robin noted with some worry that the Shepherds seemed to be tiring. With a flick of his hand Robin shouted out an order for the aerial support he had been keeping in reserve to go to their aid. He had been hoping to save them for dumping oil on the Valmese from above, but extraction of the Shepherds was his top priority at the moment.

Lucina was gripping the railing so tightly Robin feared she would drive splinters under her fingernails. It was clear that if she were able, she would be rushing to her father's aid.

And then, at that moment, a path appeared before her.

A burnt-out Valmese ship, probably a casualty from where Robin had had their fleet engage the Valmese at other points in order to keep pressure off of the assault team, had drifted near _Fighting Fate_. While it wasn't close enough for her to leap directly onto it, Lucina remembered a trick her father had told her about as he had read her tales about the Pirate King when she was a child. Lucina dashed to the helm of the ship, ignoring Robin's questions, and grabbed a rope tightly.

Robin blinked in disbelief. _She isn't._

She was. Lucina drew Falchion, and with a quick slice cut the rope free. She took a running headstart before leaping over the edge of the railing while clutching the rope, employing the classic swashbuckler technique to fly towards and land with a roll on the abandoned ship. From here she would not be able to jump directly onto _Conqueror's Reach_, and she was a weak swimmer, but she judged the distance close enough to risk attempting to swim to the ship. She took off in a dash towards the helm, as the figurehead was pointed away from the battle.

Robin cursed under his breath. What the hell did Lucina think she was doing? Robin was of course concerned for Chrom, but the Exalt could handle himself and had some of the Shepherds' finest protecting him. One of these days Lucina's reckless overprotectiveness of her father was going to get her kill-

Robin's eyes went wide as he took in a number of details about the abandoned ship all at once; details that made him ask himself questions he frankly did not like the answers to. Why was the damage to the ship without exception stopped just short of removing the ship's functionality, as if the ship was only meant to have the _appearance_ of being ruined? Why was the wood of the exterior scorched when Robin had very specifically commanded the Shepherds to only use wind magic for fear of accidentally igniting their oil? Why were Ignatius's last words playing through his head again? And most distressingly of all, why was the steering wheel tied into place?

By this point Lucina was well within the middle of the "abandoned" ship. Terror seized Robin's heart as he realized what was about to happen.

"LUCINA! GET BACK! IT'S A TRAP!"

Lucina paused for a moment, turning her head for a moment towards Robin's voice. At that instant, the hatches on the ship's deck sprang open, and a swarm of Valmese soldiers poured out from below, completely surrounding the princess. From a distance, Robin could see a squadron of Pegasus Knights approaching, skimming low over the water. Frantically, Robin began to count their numbers as he bolted towards the ship.

_Four Armor Knights. Twelve Soldiers. Eight Mages._

Robin leapt onto the railing. Lucina wheeled about in place, looking for any opening to escape through.

_Sixteen Pegasus Knights. Shit, this is bad._

The flames of Ignis began to dance around Robin's body.

Robin felt his mind lock into that place of eerie calm that only came upon him in the most dire of circumstances. He analytically assessed his enemies, their weapons, their ranges, and their distance from Lucina, as well as his own approximated combat specifications.

There was no way to take out all of the enemies surrounding Lucina before they could cut her down.

There was, however, a way to ensure that no weapon reached her. Realizing the outcome of his plan, Robin came to a resolution.

"_Arcwind,_" Robin called as he leapt off _Fighting Fate_, the wind spell sending him rocketing towards Lucina. He touched down hard and rolled through a gap in the enemy's formation, coming to a skidding halt beside Lucina, who turned to him shock.

Two things happened at this moment. One, Robin shot his arms past Lucina and cast Arcthunder, annihilating the ten or so enemies spread in a half-circle around them. Two, the soldiers behind Robin ran him through with their lances, four in total; two through the gut, one through his right calf, and one through his left shoulder. Before anyone could react to these developments, Robin had thrown his remaining working arm back behind him and cast Arcwind, shredding to pieces the soldiers who had stabbed him. With this, he began to feel Ignis's power dying out.

_No. _

_Not yet._

Blood trickled from Robin's nose as he forced Ignis to activate again, purples flames billowing out from him even higher than before and licking the sky. The remaining soldiers took an involuntary step backwards in shock, and the Pegasus Knights struggled to regain control of their panicking mounts. Robin tackled Lucina to the deck, trying his best not to accidentally impale her on the lances still jutting from his body. "Stay down," he murmured to her as she looked up at him in confusion and horror. He raised a single hand into the air, focusing every bit of power he could into his palm.

"_Rexcalibur._"

A sphere of razor-sharp wind engulfed the entire ship, gouging furrows into the deck and slicing soldiers clean in half. The Pegasus Knights were all killed instantly, ripped apart by the torrent of winds, while the handful of soldiers lucky enough to survive the massive tempest were thrown clear overboard. The storm raged on for a few seconds more, then slowly petered out. Calm settled over the ship in spite of the battle raging in the distance. Not a single Valmese soldier remained onboard.

Lucina could only stare at the devastation Robin had caused, utterly dumbstruck. She snapped back to attention as Robin collapsed to the side of her, blood already pooling around him from his wounds. Far, far too much blood. Lucina began to tremble as Robin feebly looked up at her; this didn't make any sense at all. Why would her father's killer throw away his life to save her?

"Are you… alright… Lucina?" Robin asked with a weak smile. Lucina felt her breath catch in her throat. Even now, he was still concerned for her?!

This couldn't be right. Surely this was all some calculated ploy in his diabolical plans, right?! A way to get even closer to her father before he slipped the knife?

"Why?! Why would you take such a risk to save me?! To gain favor with Chrom?!"

Robin looked at her with a most perplexed, hurt look. "What? Of course not…The hell kind of question… is that… didn't do it… because you're Chrom's daughter… did it… because you're… you…" Robin petered off, what little strength he had left quickly fleeing him.

Lucina blinked, confused. "Wh-what?"

"Saw you in trouble… terrified me… didn't think too hard about… consequences… just knew I had to save you… no matter what…"

_That almost sounds like a love confession_, Robin thought blithely to himself. _Ah well. Not like I'm going to be around long enough to be embarrassed by choice of phrasing anyway._

Robin's eyes slowly closed and he went silent. With a jolt, Lucina realized he had slipped into unconsciousness. At the rate he was bleeding, he would be dead within minutes.

This… this was what she had wanted, right? With Robin dead, he no longer posed a threat to Chrom. Robin, who had almost certainly murdered her father in her time. Robin, who was almost certainly the instigator of the end of the world.

Robin, who would stay up hours into the early morning drafting plan after plan to ensure each Shepherd came back safely. Robin, without whom the entire band could've met their end multiple times. Robin, who had thrown himself into helping her find her wayward friends over these last two months. Robin, who got along with everyone and took the loss of a Shepherd harder than anyone.

Robin, who in spite of everything he should have been, was one of the kindest men she had ever met. Robin, who had given his life for her without a second thought. Robin, who was now bleeding out at her feet.

Robin, who could still be saved.

No. She didn't want this. She didn't want this at all.

"HEALER!" Lucina screamed frantically as she dashed to the railing. _Oh gods, please let one still be onboard. _

Lucina let out a small sigh of relief as Libra came into view, Tharja trailing close behind. "What is the problem, Milady?" Libra called.

"Robin's hurt! Really badly! Please, hurry!"

Tharja gasped audibly as Libra nodded. The priest quickly connected the two ships with the gangplank, and the two rushed to crouch by Robin's side, heedless of the blood staining their clothes.

"Naga above," Libra whispered. He immediately pulled out his staff. Lucina felt her stomach clench; for the devout Libra to take Naga's name in vain, the situation must have been even more severe than she feared. "Lucina, this is going to be a bit difficult. We need to remove the lances, but if we take them out too quickly, Robin will bleed to death before I can heal the wound. I need you to take the lances out slowly, one at a time, while I heal the wounds behind them. We'll start with the one in his shoulder; I fear it severed an artery."

Lucina gulped and nodded, grasping the shaft of the lance firmly. She grimaced as she pulled it out, feeling it grind against bone with a sickening sensation. She was careful to slow her pace just as the lance came close to leaving Robin's body, giving Libra time to methodically close the gaping hole inch by inch. Libra was completely focused on his work, murmuring prayers of safeguarding to Naga as he masterfully repaired Robin's damaged flesh.

Lucina suddenly became aware of the pair of eyes burrowing into her. She turned to regard Tharja, careful to not neglect her task while doing so.

"…What happened to him?" Tharja asked quietly, glaring darkly at Lucina. "What did you do?"

Lucina's blood ran cold. "Wh-what?"

"Don't play innocent with me, girl. There's a staggering display of spellcraft in the distance, then Robin's stuck like a pig, and you're miraculously unharmed? You slipped up, and he took the fall for you."

Lucina could say nothing, eyes watering. Tharja was right. This was all her fault.

"Tharja," Libra murmured quietly. "Now is not the time for this." He turned to Lucina. "That said, any information you can share about how Robin acquired these injuries would be most helpful."

Lucina hastily recounted the events with the "abandoned" ship. She had just reached the part where Robin was about to cast Rexcalibur when Tharja raised her hand, stopping her. "Wait. Did you just say he forced Ignis to activate twice in a row?"

Lucina nodded, which elicited a string of foul swearing from Tharja.

"Of all the stupid… Libra, his life energy has run low," Tharja said, beginning to rummage through her pack. "Mark my words, girl," Tharja warned Lucina icily. "If Robin does not live through this day, then neither shall you."

"Tharja… enough of… that talk…" a voice whispered weakly. Lucina, Tharja, and Libra all snapped their heads towards Robin, who seemed to have regained consciousness.

"Robin!" Lucina and Tharja cried simultaneously.

Robin gave a faint smile, then turned to Libra. "Libra… be honest… with me… how bad is it?"

"You've expended a great deal of life energy, as Tharja said. Your body is resisting the healing because of this; it doesn't have enough reserves for the healing magic to draw upon. You've lost a significant amount of blood as well. Your odds are not good, but they exist." Libra turned to Tharja. "Tharja. Please run and find Lissa or Maribelle. I fear my abilities will be insufficient by themselves."

Tharja shook her head, pulling out a tome. "No, there's no time for that. If lack of life energy is the problem, then there's an easy fix for that."

"L-Lady Tharja, what are you doing?" Lucina asked nervously. A tome was most certainly not a healing implement.

"Making myself useful, unlike you, girl," Tharja spat, voice laced with venom. She turned back to Robin, tone and face both softening. "Robin, take my hand," she instructed as she proffered it, bathed in Dark Magic.

Robin was rapidly losing focus, but he trusted her enough to do as he was told. He gasped as the energy ran up his arm, and Tharja grit her teeth in pain.

"_Nosferatu_," she managed to say.

Robin suddenly snapped back to alertness, already feeling some of his injuries closing and his strength rejuvenating. He looked to Tharja with concern, as the Sorceress had almost fallen over and was now breathing heavily.

"Tharja? What… what did you just do?"

"A… a reverse… Nosferatu," Tharja said in between breaths. "Gave you… most of my life energy, just now…"

"What?! Tharja, you shouldn't have-"

Tharja shook her head, staring at him intently. "Don't… worry about me… I'll be fine… once I see a healer later… No permanent loss… You should be more… concerned about yourself."

"Indeed. We're not out of the woods yet," Libra added. "You're still bleeding profusely, and I can't heal your wounds and replenish your blood at the same time. This will be a delicate procedure." Robin nodded, then shuddered as he was wracked by another wave of pain. He passed out once more.

Lucina knelt, clutching her knees. She wished there was something she could do to be of help here. Her eyes wandered to Tharja's Nosferatu tome, and an idea occurred to her.

"Lady Tharja. Please, take my life energy and give it to Robin," Lucina pleaded. Tharja's eyes shot wide before settling back down into a look of cold contempt.

"If you offered your actual life I might be interested. But no, we're past the point where that's necessary, at least for the moment. Robin needs his injuries repaired more than anything right now. If you want to do something, go find your Aunt. I would do it myself, but I don't think I can even stand anymore..."

Lucina hesitated, hating the notion of abandoning Robin's side, but nodded and dashed towards _Fighting Fate_. Even if she had to swim from ship to ship looking for Lissa, Lucina would not allow herself to fail.

* * *

Robin's consciousness flickered in and out, a new image greeting him each time.

Lucina, tears streaming down her face as she begged him not to die.

Lissa leaning over him, telling him everything would be alright. She had a strong look in her eyes. She'd grown up so much over these last few years.

Chrom, ordering him to survive with a determined look on his face.

Maribelle, and even Ricken and Miriel, their knowledge of healing magic limited, pitching in in any way they could.

Henry cheerfully giving a recharge of life energy with the same reverse Nosferatu method Tharja had used, mentioning something about how Tharja shouldn't get to be the only one to do something cool like that.

Blinding light as his plan went into action and the Valmese fleet caught ablaze. A cacophony of thousands of dying men's screams met his ears.

And lastly, before everything faded into darkness, a vision of himself with smoldering red eyes.

_"Don't think you'll die so easily," he smirked. "We have much in store for you."_

* * *

"Are you certain he'll be alright?" Lucina asked desperately.

A weary Libra sighed, then nodded. "It was difficult, but he's made it through the worst." Robin was now sleeping fitfully in the medical bay; he would be moved back to his cabin once he was out of critical condition. "We've done what we can, and now it is up to him and the grace of Naga. And Robin is not the kind of man to give up easily. Of course, it will take some time before he is fully healed."

Lissa leaned against a wall, sighing heavily. "So… so tired. That jerk had better thank me properly when he wakes up."

"Statistically, Robin had what I approximate to have been less than a 1% chance of surviving that ordeal," Miriel said coolly. "That said, I would believe this to be what Gaius refers to as an "easy bet". He will live. I cannot empirically justify this conclusion, but I predict it nonetheless."

"A proper lady would never allow a man so noble in spirit to die on her watch," Maribelle added.

Lucina bowed deeply. "Thank you. Thank you all."

"Save it, "Tharja muttered. "We didn't do it to ease your guilty conscience."

"You have every right to doubt my intentions, Lady Tharja, but I thank you for saving him nonetheless." She bowed again.

Tharja scowled. "Fool. I don't need thanks for helping Robin."

"You should all get some rest," Libra declared. "We've had a long day."

"But who will keep watch over Robin?" Lucina asked.

"I shall; I must tend to the other injured anyway," Libra smiled. "Now go to sleep, all of you. Consider it physician's orders."

The group got up and departed, all save for two. "I… I would like to stay with him," Lucina requested.

Libra chuckled. "Your concern is admirable, but Robin will be fine without you."

"For my peace of mind then. Please, Sir Libra," Lucina insisted.

Libra sighed. The girl could be as stubborn as her father sometimes. "Very well. Pull up a chair."

Lucina smiled brightly and nodded, thanking the priest.

"Aren't you going to send me away?" a voice asked from her corner. Libra turned to regard Tharja.

Libra smiled again. "Of course not. You are my patient as well, after all."

"…Robin lives still because of you. You have my eternal gratitude."

"I believe it is now my turn to say that I require no thanks for helping a friend."

* * *

Robin awoke to the warmth of sunlight and the sounds of waves breaking against a ship's hull. He was propped up in a bed in a ship's private living quarters. To his right was a wide window which gave a majestic view of the vast ocean. Massive, snow-white clouds sprawled across the sky. It was absolutely beautiful. Robin's mind usually moved at a million miles a minute, but for now he was content to sit in silence as he took the scene in.

_Is this… what's called an afterlife?_

_ Huh? That's a strange thing to think… am I supposed to be dead?_

Robin heard a slight stirring his left. He turned to see Lucina slumped over in a chair, her father's cape draped over her as a makeshift blanket. Robin tried to sit up, and to his surprise found that he physically couldn't; his body weakly refused to obey him, and the slightest movement caused severe flares of pain. He let out a slight gasp and gritted his teeth. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him.

_Ah. That's right. _

Lucina stirred at the noise, rubbing her eyes groggily before snapping to attention.

"Robin! You're awake! Thank goodness!"

"...Lucina? Where am I? How long have I been out?"

"We're in your cabin. You've been unconscious for almost a week."

"A-A week?! What happened to the Valmese? Is Chrom alright? Did the plan-?!" Robin suddenly stopped speaking, wincing as his head spun. He was in worse shape than he thought.

"Father is fine. We defeated the Valmese fleet handily, thanks to your plan, and we should be arriving at Valm Harbor within a month's time."

"The plan went off without a hitch, huh...?" Robin asked, staring into space as he remembered the glow of the massive inferno and the terror-struck cries of the Valmese men.

"...Is something troubling you, Robin?"

"Thousands of men died horrible deaths because of me; men with families, things worth fighting for. They weren't Risen, Lucina. Each of them was human."

Lucina grimaced; she knew better than most anyone the value of a human life. She should have expected Robin to be grappling with the morality of what he had done.

"Sometimes sacrifices must be made, Robin. It's not easy taking lives, but the path we tread offers no alternatives. Walhart and Grima must be stopped. We killed those men so that the many might live."

Robin nodded. There was a good logic to her words. The princess's ideology didn't dissipate the guilt, but it made it easier to bear.

_Wait, did she actually just call me by my name?_

Robin gave Lucina a more appraising look. Her hair was unruly, her clothes were wrinkled, and there were bags under her eyes.

"Have... have you been watching over me this whole time?" He asked in astonishment.

Lucina blinked. "...Well, yes. After what you did for me, this was the least of what I owed you." The princess cleared her throat, then looked Robin in the eyes. "Robin, I… I would beg your forgiveness," Lucina said, fists clenched over her knees.

"What, for this?" Robin asked, gesturing to his bandaged torso. "Don't worry about that, I've had worse than-"

Lucina shook her head, cutting him off. "No, not that. I mean, I _am_ sincerely sorry that my carelessness caused you such grave injury, and I am truly grateful to you for saving my life. My disregard nearly killed you, and I'll not make that mistake again. But no, what I speak of is my mistreatment of you these past months. Where you have shown me naught but kindness and concern, I had repaid you with hatred and mistrust. I had thought myself at the time justified, but I… I was wrong. I have slighted you beyond words," she concluded quietly.

"…You think I'm going to be the one who kills Chrom," Robin stated.

Lucina sat upright, shocked, then shook her head emphatically. "No. I _thought_ that, yes. But no longer. I refuse to accept that you are the architect of our apocalypse. Even if the Robin of my time _was_ the perpetrator of that heinous crime, you are different. The you I have come to know would never do such a thing."

Robin stared at the back of his bandaged right hand. "…Lucina, you're aware of my lost memories, yes?"

Lucina nodded, unsure where he was headed with this.

"Sometimes I fear that I was not… the kindest of people when I was my true self. When I knew who I was." Lucina's eyes went wide at these words. "…It's why I cannot outright deny such an accusation. It's why I'm prepared to-"

He was stopped short as Lucina abruptly leaned in and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"No more of this talk, Robin. You are not under trial, and you are a good man. A handful of memories would not change this fact, and I am sorry that I did not see it sooner. You are Robin, Grandmaster Tactician of the Shepherds, and you need not be anyone else."

Robin stared at her for a moment, stunned, before breaking into a warm smile. "…Thank you, Lucina. Your words bring me much-needed peace. That said… you are squeezing my shoulder wound rather tightly."

"Ah! M-My apologies, I didn't mean to-"

Robin chuckled. "It's quite alright. _Every_ part of my body hurts right now anyway," he joked.

Lucina winced, a guilty look on her face. "Sir Libra said it would be a few weeks before you could even move about again..."

Robin's face went pale. "...What?"

"He said that because you expended so much of your life energy protecting me, your body will be slow to recover from your injuries. The healers managed to close your wounds, but any overexertion could cause them to reopen again."

"...Life energy?" Robin muttered with a pensive expression. "Does that mean my lifespan's been shortened? Oh! What about Tharja?!"

"I'm fine, thank you," a muffled voice from underneath his bed said. Robin and Lucina jumped in surprise, eliciting gritted teeth and a hiss of pain from the former. Tharja poked her head out. "It's life force you need to be concerned about, not life energy."

"L-Lady Tharja?!" Lucina stammered. "What are you doing here?! This is a private conversation; you have no right eavesdropping!"

"I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," she replied sarcastically. "Still, I can't help but feel that for some reason you have no moral high ground over me right now," she continued with mock contemplation. "Ooh, I have an idea on how to figure out why. Everyone who didn't almost get Robin killed within the last week, raise your hand! ...Why, _Princess_, what's wrong? Why aren't you raising your- Oh, that's right!" Tharja grinned deviously. Lucina spluttered, face growing red as she tried and failed to come up with a retort. Robin decided to step in and steer the conversation in a different direction before things got ugly.

"Uh, anyway Tharja, what were you saying about life force and life energy?"

Tharja turned back to him with a smug smile. "Life energy is separate from life force; it's the source of our magical power. Some disciplines call it "mana" or "chi". Overexerting your life energy is comparable to overexerting yourself physically to the point that all your muscles tore. Now, using up your life _force_, on the other hand, shortens your lifespan and lets you do some _really_ nasty stuff..." Tharja murmured with a dark grin.

"...Erm, thank you, Tharja. That's a relief. And I appreciate what you did for me, I really do. You're a good friend. But we've already had talks about you doing things under my bed, remember?"

Tharja pulled herself out from under it, standing in her usual refined pose. "I think I've earned the right to an exception this time. But I will give you some privacy; I'm sure you're still exhausted and I know you have trouble falling asleep when you think someone is watching you. Perhaps I'll go try out my new hex on that do-gooder priest."

Robin recalled Tharja's vicious threat to Lucina while he had been dying. "...Tharja, did you put any hexes on Lucina?"

Tharja smiled eerily, and Lucina shuddered as if she were recalling terrible. "Oh you bet I did. But Chrom threatened to lock me up and not let me visit you if I didn't take them off her. In response I tried cursing him, which... did not go over well. I surmise he's so resilient to hexes because of how headstrong he is."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "...So there aren't any hexes on Lucina now?"

Tharja grinned. "Well, not any _detectable_ ones, at least..."

"_Tharja_..." Robin warned.

The Sorceress rolled her eyes. "Oh fine, I suppose I'll take them off her... _this_ time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a priest to experiment on. Sleep well, Robin. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need some... _company_." With that, she strolled out of Robin's cabin, leaving him and Lucina to sit in awkward silence.

Lucina coughed. "Uh, my thanks, Robin. Lady Tharja is as terrifying as I remember."

"What did she do to you?"

Lucina grimaced. "I would prefer not to speak of it."

Robin chuckled. "Well, I'm sure it was unpleasant, but I doubt she put you in any real danger. Tharja's difficult to get along with sometimes, but deep down she's a good person."

"I'll take your word for it," Lucina said skeptically. ""...I should probably leave you to your rest now that I know you're alright. Do you need anything before I go? Some food perhaps?"

Robin shook his head. "I'm not hungry right now, thank you. I'll probably be ravenous next time I wake up though... Ugh, weeks of bedrest? I'm going to go mad. There's not going to be much for me to do… to be honest, I don't think I can even pick up a book as I am right now," Robin smiled ruefully.

Lucina hesitated. "I… I could read to you, if you'd like…"

Robin said nothing for a moment, then grinned. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much. But you should get some shuteye yourself; you look exhausted."

Lucina hesitated, then nodded. Sleeping in a chair for almost a week had not been enjoyable. "I… I'll see you tomorrow, then. …And again, from the bottom of my heart... thank you, Robin." Lucina folded up Chrom's cape and exited the room, carefully closing the door shut. Robin leaned back, pondering the recent developments of the last few days. He was beginning to drift off into sleep when the door opened again.

_"_Hey buddy!" Chrom called as he entered. "Glad to see you're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Like Minerva landed on me."

Chrom chuckled, pulling up the chair Lucina had just been sitting in. Judging by the fact that his cape was fixed in its usual position, he must have run into Lucina on his way there and been giving it back. That, or he owned more than one cape. Robin couldn't be sure which was the case; he couldn't recall _ever_ seeing Chrom not wearing a cape.

"You passed Lucina on your way here?"

Chrom nodded, not bothering to question what leaps of reasoning Robin had taken to arrive at that conclusion. He had long given up on trying to figure out how Robin's mind worked. "She was stumbling her way back to her cabin. Poor girl looked like she was about to collapse. She watched over you this whole time, you know. She's been asking me things about you a lot lately, too."

Robin nodded. "I see." Lucina actually caring about his wellbeing gave him a nice feeling, he had to admit.

Chrom's face became somber as he looked at the tactician. "Robin, I... If something had happened to Lucina, I..." Chrom gulped, then abruptly leaned in and gripped his best friend in a fierce hug. "...Thank you, Robin."

Robin cringed from pain, but patted his friend on the back. "...I would do it all over again if I had to, Chrom."

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

It had become a daily routine during the last few weeks for Lucina to come and read to Robin, even though he was now well enough that he could pick up books himself again. Robin enjoyed Lucina's company, and he liked to think that she had come to enjoy his as well—the difference between their interactions now and months ago were like night and day, and he was glad for it. They often found themselves talking for hours on end now about everything and nothing.

"Anything in particular you'd like to hear today?" Lucina asked with a warm smile.

"Hmm… how about _Genealogy of the Holy War_? Or perhaps you would like to pick up where we left off on in _Shadow Dragon_? I believe Marth was about to challenge the Wooden Cavalry. Ballistae are fascinating things; it's a pity the technology didn't survive the Schism."

"I'm sure Laurent and Lady Miriel could create one if they put their minds to it," Lucina said as she went to pick up the chronicle of the War of Shadows.

"I get the feeling that when those two are done they'll have leapfrogged our sciences by at least a couple of centuries," Robin half-joked. "…Er, Lucina?" he asked as he realized she was staring at him, smiling. "Is something the matter?"

"It's just nice that you speak of the future so casually, as if it's a given. Like you can't envision us failing. It gives me hope."

Robin flushed and looked out the window. "Well of course. It's not like a big stupid lizard is going to beat your dad."

Lucina giggled, a rare sound that Robin found lovely. He took some pride in being able to make the stoic princess laugh.

"While I cannot condone underestimating Grima, I suppose defeating "big stupid lizards", as you put it, does run in the family," Lucina said as she opened the book. "Now then. Marth had just acquired the Regalia, Parthia, and rescued the Bishop Boah and the Paladin Midia…"

Robin tried to stay awake, he really did. But the sunlight was so warm, the waves were so rhythmic, and Lucina's voice was so soothing. He drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Robin awoke screaming. Startled, Lucina dropped the book she had been engrossed in, and her hand reflexively went for Falchion before she checked herself. She reached out to take Robin by the uninjured shoulder.

"Robin! Calm yourself. It was merely a dream. You are safe."

Robin panted heavily, eyes darting about frantically. Lucina noted with some concern that he was drenched in a cold sweat.

"A… a dream…?" Robin asked. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, it… it was more than that… it was far too real… like I'd experienced it before."

"What do you mean?"

More composed now, Robin sat back. "I… there was a woman… older than me… Her name was... Morgan? Yes, Morgan, I think. I was really young. We were running, and I was scared. She was too. She… she hid me someplace. Used some powerful magic to conceal me. Told me I'd be safe… and that she… loved me? Then she ran away. And then…" Robin went pale. "Oh gods. Validar was there."

Lucina's eyes went wide. She knew exactly who Validar was. "Validar? The King of Plegia and head of the Grimleal? The sorcerer who revives Grima?"

"…Yes. And…" Robin hesitated. He wasn't sure why he felt a need to reveal what he was about to reveal. He could very well be about to destroy the relationship he had managed to build with Lucina. But she would need to know eventually; if there came a time where Validar was able to abuse his psychic connection with Robin, then Robin needed to be certain he had a counterplan, even if that meant trusting someone to kill him.

"…And who is also my father."

Lucina could only stare at him in stunned silence.

Robin glanced away, gulped, and then slowly removed the bandages on his uninjured right hand, holding out the Mark of Grima for Lucina to see. She gasped in horror.

"This… this cannot be…" She murmured.

"Would that it wasn't. But it's the truth. I don't remember him, but on Carrion Isle, Validar appeared to me and claimed I was his son. He reached out to me with his mind… some form of telepathy. And I knew he wasn't lying." He laughed bitterly. "It explains quite a bit, doesn't it?"

Lucina said nothing for some moments.

"…Do you wish to kill me?" Robin asked, meeting her eyes. Lucina flinched, hesitating before shaking her head.

"No! No, of course not. I… I'm ashamed to say, a mere month ago I would've run you through upon learning this, consequences be damned. But not now. I know better." She reached up and gently placed her hand on his cheek in an effort to reassure him. "You did not choose the circumstances of your birth. You bear no fault in it."

Robin's shoulders sagged in relief, and he reached up to enclose her hand in his own as he blinked back tears.

"He… Validar… he killed her. I watched it happen." Robin shuddered. "She sacrificed her life for me, and I don't even know who she is…"

Lucina blanched. "Robin… while you were sleeping, you kept saying one word, over and over… you kept saying "Mother"…"

Robin looked at her numbly. "I… I what…?"

Lucina looked away. "...I'm so sorry, Robin."

Robin sat there, struggling to process what he had just learned. "I... after I found out about my relation to Validar, I gave up on trying to reclaim my memories. I figured there was nothing I would want to remember. But... but, my mother-" Robin's voice cracked, his eyes watering. Lucina looked back to him in concern.

"My father is a terrible, evil man who the world would be better off without. But my mother… my mother was so kind, so gentle…" Robin broke into a sob.

He froze as Lucina pulled him into an embrace, placing his head against her shoulder.

"I know all too well the pain of losing a beloved parent," Lucina murmured reassuringly. "And I know the cost of bottling up that grief inside. I can't imagine how unbearably it must hurt you to remember your mother for the first time only to know you'll never see her again. So weep. Let it all out. I am here for you."

Robin blinked back tears, struggling not to break down before relenting and melting into Lucina's embrace. And for the first time in his life that he could remember, Robin wept.

* * *

**A Few Days Later**

Sumia prided herself in the fact that in spite of now being Queen she still did menial chores, just like her husband and everyone else in the Shepherds.

"I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time in Robin's cabin," she said casually.

Lucina looked up from where she had been chopping vegetables alongside her mother. "I've been reading to him. He's been cooped up in that room for quite a while and can't move around much. The least I can do for him is to help alleviate his boredom."

Sumia smiled and cocked an eyebrow at her daughter's easily misinterpreted choice of words. "Really? Is that _allll_ you're doing with him?"

Lucina stared at her blankly. "Yes. Robin is not yet fit enough to resume physical exercise, and without information about our enemy he can't begin drafting strategies, so he-" Lucina's face went bright red as she realized what Sumia had been implying. "_Mother!_"

Sumia laughed. Her daughter was just so _adorable_ when she was flustered. "What? A cute boy risks his life to save yours, and you spend all your time with him afterwards? What's a mother supposed to think?"

"I-It's not like that!" Lucina stammered, panic creeping into her voice as her blush intensified further. Well, things had been indescribably different ever since the incident with Robin's nightmare; the two were much more relaxed and open with each other now, but surely not in _that_ way...

Sumia smiled. So in other words, it was _exactly_ "that", but Lucina wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet. Robin was probably in the exact same (metaphorical) boat; he had been going to such lengths to reunite Lucina with her missing friends, personally leading each search, and then he threw himself directly into harm's way for her? It would be strange if the tactician _wasn't_ in love with her. Of course, Robin was probably still completely oblivious to his feelings for Lucina; for someone so smart, he could be so godsdamn _dense_ sometimes.

Well, if she was right (and Sumia was certain she was), then she had to admit to herself that she was actually quite pleased with this development. Others might be a little weirded out by the idea of the two of them being together, but Sumia's tolerance for weirdness had increased drastically given all the odd going-ons of late, and she couldn't think of a single better suitor for her daughter than Robin.

Oh, but how long would it take them to actually get together? Months? Even years? Sumia groaned internally; she absolutely _hated_ it when two people who clearly liked each other took forever to confess their feelings, whether in her romance novels or real life.

_Wait, romance novels?_ Sumia gave a wicked grin as an idea popped into her head. Sometimes the only way to get those two to pay attention to an issue was to shove it directly under their noses.

"Ok, ok, if you insist dear. But say, don't you think Robin might be getting a bit bored with all those stale tactics or musty old history books? Why don't I loan you a fantasy book or two?"

Lucina put her finger to her chin in thought. "Well, I've never known Robin to be bored by a strategy book, and the history books have tales bordering on the fantastic themselves, but I don't see why not..."

* * *

"Good morning, Robin! How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, thank you. I still can't move around much, but I don't hurt all over anymore."

"That's good," Lucina said with a genuine smile.

"So what are we reading today?"

"I thought we would try something a bit different. It's called _The White Pegasus_. I haven't read it, but I was told it's quite good."

Robin cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing in protest. Lucina seemed excited about this.

She took up her usual chair and began to read. It was a cliche premise, a mercenary falling in love with a princess betrothed to a neighboring kingdom's prince. Robin bit his tongue about the handful of grammatical errors he noticed; he didn't mind putting up with those if Lucina was enjoying the book. Still, he couldn't help but feel the pace of the book was amateurish as well; they couldn't even be twenty pages in and it looked like the main characters were already about to have their first romantic scene. A romantic scene with intricately-detailed build-up, and keen attention paid to the physical attributes of the participants.

_Wait a minute..._

All of the color drained from Robin's face. "L-Lucina? Where did you say you got that book again?"

"From my mother's collection. Now would you please sit still and kindly not interrupt?" She asked with an amused smile, not looking up to see Robin's horrorstruck face, which was now flushed bright red.

Sumia's collection?! But that would mean-!

Good _gods_, what if _Chrom_ walked in on this?!

"P-perhaps we should pick a different book, Lucina? The subject matter might not be entirely umm… appropriate."

"Oh hush, Robin. You can't read strategy or history books all the time. It's good to entertain oneself with fantasy once every now and then."

Robin could feel his brain beginning to short-circuit. _She's got to be deliberately wording it like that. Right? Right?!_

Robin mentally braced for imminent disaster.

""She slid her hand down and"… Oh… _oh_…" Lucina's eyes went wide as she trailed off, face growing a furious shade of scarlet as she skimmed the page. Robin had at this point found a whorl in the cabin's wall to give his undivided attention to.

"Y-y-you know what, I just realized I had forgotten there was something I must be doing right now!" Lucina cried as she jumped up, slapping the book shut. Robin nodded wordlessly in assent. Lucina apologized hurriedly, then dashed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her so hard that a framed picture fell off Robin's wall.

"...Godsdammit, Sumia..."

* * *

Lucina sprinted into her cabin, slammed the door shut, and hastily locked it. She gave a sigh of relief before walking over to her bed and flopping down, glaring at the lurid book she still held tightly in her grasp. After she collected her wits she would go and return to this to her mother, and give her a good scolding.

Well, then again, she didn't _have_ to give it back right away… There had been no such novels left back in her time; what little literature that mankind had managed to salvage was mostly military tactics and survival guides. Lucina had to admit, her curiosity had been… piqued by this book. It was just so unlike anything she had ever read before. It wouldn't be so bad of her to read it, right? After all, she was just as much of an adult as her mother, strange as that felt to think.

Lucina glanced suspiciously at her barred door, then cracked the book back open to begin reading where she had left off. Her face went scarlet again almost immediately.

She didn't know how long she had been reading the book, but the midday sun was beginning to sink when she realized something was off. She blinked for a moment, unable to place her finger on it, before shrugging and continuing to read.

_Falrius gently picked the princess up. Eleste gave a small gasp and gently reached to stroke the large gash on his chest, at which he chuckled and shook his head. "Fear not, my love. I would suffer this a thousand times over for your sake, for I-"_

Lucina shrieked and hurled the book across the room as if it had bitten her as she realized why she had felt so unsettled—she had been mentally juxtaposing herself and Robin over the novel's two main characters.

_Th-this is merely because I am unaccustomed to this subject matter,_ Lucina desperately tried to rationalize. _Robin is merely my father's tactician. My father's brave, gallant, smart, cute, funny, wonderful-_

Lucina brought her pillow to her face, stifling a loud groan as she flopped back onto her bed, willing the newfound realization to disappear.

_Oh gods, I've actually fallen for him. How did this happen?!_

Lucina didn't actually need to think about it very hard to understand how it had happened. If she had given Robin a fair chance from the beginning it might have even happened sooner. But still, what about her wish to not alter this timeline any more than necessary? No matter how she looked at it, acting on these feelings would irrevocably cross some line.

…_What am I going to do?_

* * *

Robin would have words with Sumia about this incident later. Oh, he would definitely have words. This he could understand coming from Lissa. But Sumia? She had never struck him as the type to play practical jokes, and this one had rattled him far more than anything Lissa had ever pulled off.

Why _was_ he so unsettled right now, anyway? It was an easily explained, harmless misunderstanding. So why was his heart still pounding and his face still flushed? Lucina was just his best friend's daughter. Who happened to be beautiful and strong and smart and charming and cute and-

_Oh._

Robin quickly ran back that list of complimentary adjectives in his head, as well as a few more he hadn't added. He realized exactly how that would sound to someone if he were to say it aloud. Exactly what it signified.

_Ah._

Yes, there was no doubt about it in his mind now. He was in love with Lucina. Lucina, who was Chrom's daughter. Chrom, who was his best friend and someone he would never want to betray the trust of. Chrom, who was extremely protective of his daughter, who sometimes had a short temper, and who could probably break Robin with his bare hands if he put his mind to it, even if Robin hadn't currently been an invalid.

_ Ah hell…_


	6. A Manakete, a Mage, and Misunderstanding

Vaike set down two plates of food as he sat at the mess tent table. Across from him, Nowi immediately snatched her meal and began wolfing it down.

"Thanks for playing with me today, Vaike!" she said through a mouthful of venison. "Not many people make as much time for me as you do. Only person who comes close is Lon'qu when he plays house with me!"

Vaike mentally filed away that information in his up-till-now-nonexistent "Things That Could Cause Lon'qu to Drop His Guard in a Duel if Mentioned Offhandedly" folder.

He grinned. "Hey, The Teach can always make time for his star pupil!"

"But don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Nah, the Vaike loves kids! My dream is to help the orphans of my hometown slum get out of the gutter and live better lives! I'd spend my whole life doing it if I had to!"

Nowi abruptly stopped chewing and gave a downcast look at her nearly empty plate. "Your whole life…"

Vaike cocked an eyebrow, realizing the Manakete was now shaking. "Nowi? Hey kid, what's the matter?"

Nowi suddenly burst out sobbing. "Oh Vaike! Y-you're so nice! Everyone in the Shepherds is! I love all of you! But you're all going to die and go away someday, j-just like Gregor! You, Chrom, Robin, e-even R-Ricken! I don't wanna be all alone again!" The girl began to wail.

Vaike frowned and put a reassuring hand on Nowi's shoulder. "Hey, hey, easy there. It's alright. Listen, Nowi. Yeah, we're going to die someday, and that'll be real sad. But we won't disappear, even when we're worm food. We'll always be with you."

Nowi sniffled. "R-really?"

"Yep! We'll all always be right here," he said reassuringly while poking her in the heart.

Miriel chose to enter the tent at that moment.

Miriel looked at Vaike.

Vaike looked at Miriel, his finger still touching Nowi's chest.

Miriel looked at Nowi, then back at Vaike. Vaike looked at where his finger was and immediately snapped it back as if stung.

Miriel cleared her throat. "Ahem. Pardon the intrusion. Vaike, I did not realize you had such… _unorthodox_ physical preferences," Miriel said, eyes obscured by harsh lens flare. "However, I suppose that by most metrics Nowi is a consenting adult, and…"

"WHAT?! NO NO NO, YOU'VE GOT IT ALL WRONG! IT'S NOT LIKE THAT! IT WAS ONE OF THOSE METAMORPHOSIS THINGS, I SWEAR!"

"Vaike, I think you mean "metabolism"," Nowi chided.

"Huh? Maybe it was "metaheuristic"?"

Miriel pinched the bridge of her nose. "…Where did you even learn that word? …Never mind. I believe the word you are searching for is "metaphor", but I fail to see how it excuses what amounts to groping a child."

"Hey! You _just_ said I'm an adult!" Nowi yelled. "…I _am_ an adult! I'm older than both of you by at least nine hundred years!"

"I was _not_ groping her! There's nothing _to_ grope!"

"What?!" Nowi shouted indignantly.

Vaike was thankfully saved from a dragon's wrath by Miriel's interrupting question. "So I am to assume that there is no fraternization occurring between the two of you?"

Nowi stuck out her tongue. "Ew, gross! Vaike's one of my bestest friends, but it's not like I'm going to let him _fu_-" She was immediately cut off by Vaike, who had shot his hand over to cover her mouth. People often forgot that, in spite of her childlike appearance, due to her immense lifespan Nowi knew more about inappropriate words and actions than the entirety of the rest of the Shepherds combined, and was not shy in the slightest about talking about them. She had once even made Gregor physically ill. _Gregor_.

"Yeah, yeah, there's nothing like that going on between us, Miriel, Teach swears. We're just friends."

Miriel adjusted her glasses. "I see." Vaike had to wonder to himself if it didn't seem like Miriel was _relieved_. "At any rate, it is quite fortuitous that I encountered you here, Nowi. Robin requested that I locate you and redirect you to him; he wishes to experiment on your flight pattern compatibility with the newcomer Cherche and her wyvern."

Nowi jumped up. "Yay! That sounds like fun! Bye Vaike!" With that she dashed out the tent.

Vaike chuckled. "She sure is rambuggle-… rambuckle-… she sure is energetic, huh?"

""Rambunctious". And yes, Nowi is remarkably resilient to fatigue." She gave a soft smile.

Vaike gestured that Miriel sit before he spent a few more moments polishing off what was left of his meal. He looked up to find Miriel still standing around awkwardly. "Huh? Something the matter, Miriel?"

Miriel hesitated. "Well… It is just that, when Nowi said that she was your friend, I became somewhat curious as to what that was like. Might we… might we become friends as well, Vaike?"

Vaike guffawed. "We already _are_ friends, Miriel!"

Miriel blinked in surprise, then smiled. "I see. In that case, shall we begin with the activity called "playing house" to further develop our bond of friendship?"

It was Vaike's turn to blink. "Erm, no… Nowi's sort of special case when it comes to that. Most grown-ups do things like go to alehouses and stuff."

"I see. I would proposition that we visit said alehouse, but you have just finished eating and-"

"What, this?" Vaike chuckled. "Ol' Teach can pack away way more than that. Besides, I'm always down for a pint!"

As Vaike and Miriel exited the mess tent to make their way towards town, Miriel became conscious of a light, pleasant feeling in her chest. She had noticed this sensation occurring more and more frequently, and exclusively with Vaike. Further experimentation would be needed to determine whether Vaike's presence was the causation of this effect, rather than mere correlation.

She smiled to herself. Miriel didn't understand this feeling, not yet at least. But that was one of the best parts of being a scientist, that anticipation of imminent discovery. Miriel looked up to Vaike, who was talking animatedly with a huge grin on his face. Miriel found that this simple act inexplicably drew out a smile of her own.

_Fascinating._


	7. A Duel Between Dark Mages

Tharja strode through camp with purpose, mentally tallying the hexing ingredients she needed to fetch from the supply tent for her next experiment. She paid no heed to the hot, muggy Valmese summer air; having lived most of her life in Plegia's deserts, heat had little effect on her in comparison to her comrades. Already she had come across several today who were complaining about how stifling the temperature was, the lot of infants.

She slowed her pace as she neared her destination, her path blocked by another individual who was unperturbed by the heat.

"Heya Tharja! How's it going?" Henry waved.

"Do you always stand around in people's way like an idiot? I doubt you're here for hexing supplies yourself; I'm sure a creep like you would love collecting them by hand."

"Oh no, I'd never kill an animal. I have my crow friends scavenge for the parts I need."

"Then why are you in my way?"

"Oh, just CAWS. Nyahahaha!"

Tharja scowled. "You're as unpleasant and unnerving as ever. Get lost." With that she made to move past him and enter the supply tent, but Henry stepped in front of her, cutting her off.

"You've been trying out a bunch of curses on poor Noire, haven'tcha?" Henry said it more like a statement than an actual question.

Tharja frowned as she assessed Henry, whose cheerful expression might as well have been a mask for how ineffective it was at conveying what he really felt. She scowled. Trust Henry to pick up on something like that.

"And what if I have? She's no daughter of yours. Mind your own damn business."

Henry waved his finger. "Ah, but you see, it _is_ my business. Here's the thing… when I see some poor kid getting mistreated by their folks..." Henry's jaw twitched slightly. "Well, let's just say I _really_ don't like it."

"Deal with it. Run along now, I have some experiments to conduct."

Henry abruptly stopped smiling, which sent off alarm signals in Tharja's head. She had never, _ever_ seen the Dark Mage not smiling. "No, you don't," he said, coldly, quietly, and definitively. "I won't allow you to harm that child."

Tharja growled. "And what if I do? Will you try to curse me? I've been practicing diligently since our last match. Don't think that you can beat me now!"

Henry opened his pale grey eyes, and Tharja felt tremors run up and down her spine as a cold sweat threatened to break out. "No, I won't try to hex you," he whispered.

Tharja felt incredible malice pressing down on her from all sides—a cloying, terrible sensation. Whether it was an actual hex or simply Henry's overwhelming presence, she couldn't tell. She froze in place and felt utter terror for the first time in her life as Henry uttered three words.

"I'll kill you."

Tharja gulped, suddenly rooted to the spot either by fear or by Henry's magic. He meant it. Of course he meant it, it was Henry for Grima's sake! And he could actually do it, too. Henry was on a very, very short list of Shepherds that Tharja considered capable of killing her. And unlike the others, he was not above wanton murder.

Tharja bluffed. "Even if you could kill me, you wouldn't dare. If I die, then Noire will never be born in this timeline."

"Don't care."

The rebuff was so sudden, so unexpected, and so disinterested that Tharja was stunned. How could it be that Henry was willing to kill to protect the future-past Noire, but would remorselessly condemn the Noire of this time to nonexistence? Tharja decided that Henry was not interested in a philosophical debate on the subject. Dissuading him would be impossible, but so would abandonment of her "research".

_Fine then. This is my only path forward._

"So be it," Tharja said darkly as she pulled out a Ruin tome. "If you're so insistent on this, then I suppose the outcome is inevitable. I'll not meekly roll over and die just because you dispute my abilities as a parent."

Henry's smile finally reappeared as he pulled out a Waste tome. He gave no pun, no signature laugh. It was almost as if an entirely different person stood before Tharja.

Three seconds passed before the exchange began, but each seemed to drag out like an eternity for Tharja. She was hesitant to make the first move; if the fight was interrupted by the Shepherds she didn't want to be seen as the one who had initiated it.

Henry wordlessly cast his spell, dark energy collecting around Tharja. She quickly jumped out of the way, then jumped again as the automatic follow-up attack struck. She narrowly avoided injury, but Henry was now upon her, a Flux tome ready in hand. Panicking, Tharja whipped out an Elthunder tome. She successfully countered the attack, but the recoil sent her flying, causing her to land on the ground hard and skid across it. Henry had retained his footing, and tossed the Flux tome into the air as he took out an Elfire tome. He lopped a fireball at Tharja, who barely managed to roll out of the way before Henry had caught the Flux tome and fired another attack at her. This one caught Tharja dead on, causing her to hack up blood as her chest burned. However, she had prepared for this, and was already in the middle of letting off a Nosferatu. Henry seemed to be caught by surprise and took the attack unguarded. Tharja breathed a sigh of relief as her more serious injuries immediately healed from the spell's draining nature, leaving only a few superficial cuts.

_Wait. Something's not right here._

Henry should've been able to avoid that. Not easily, but he could've managed it.

"You bastard… did you take that Nosferatu on purpose to draw this out?"

Henry giggled. "Maaayyybbeee," he drawled. He put away his Flux tome and brought the Waste tome back out. He was about to attack again when a shrill voice cried out.

"Mother! Uncle Henry! What are you doing?!"

Henry turned to find the blonde archer standing behind him, shaking nervously. "Oh! Heya, Noire! I'm just trying to kill your mom, that's all!"

"Wh-what?! Uncle Henry, why would you do that?!"

"She's been cursing you non-stop, right? I'm not going to sit back and let her hurt you."

"W-well, yes, but that's ok, really! I don't mind helping Mother with her research! Really! So please stop fighting!"

Henry shook his head. "Nope! Sorry Noire, but this is for your own good. Better no parent than a bad parent, I always say! Nyaha-"

Henry's laugh was abruptly cut short as an arrow whistled past his head. He quirked his eyebrows in surprise, and turned to give Noire his full attention.

"BLOOD AND THUNDER!" Noire screamed, now in her alter ego. "I DID NOT COME BACK IN TIME TO HAVE SOME SIMPERING HALFWIT ROB ME OF MY MOTHER ONCE MORE! MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS, FOOL!"

Tharja regarded her daughter with some concern. Already, she could sense the flare-up of dark energy that occurred only when Noire became like this. Without the talisman to restrain it, Noire's aura was practically visible.

Henry just began to laugh, holding his fingertips out in the air. "I don't believe this! All this dark energy! Noire, I had no idea you were so powerful! You might even be stronger than me!"

Tharja pursed her lips. Yes, Noire had an abundance of dark energy, moreso than she had ever seen in anyone other than Robin or that accursed brat he had apparently had with Chrom's daughter. That abundance was the problem, though, and the focal point of her research.

"Well, come on!" Henry yelled excitedly. "Hit me with your best curse! I want to see what you've got!"

"CEASE YOUR CHITTERING, IMP!" Noire bellowed as she notched another arrow, aiming it at Henry. "I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO CURSE SOMEONE, SO I SHALL MAKE DO BY CAUSING YOU TO CURSE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN!"

If Henry's eyes had been open he would've blinked. He turned to Tharja in confusion. "Your kid doesn't know Dark Magic?"

"As you can see, her power is overflowing, but she has no ability to give it outlet."

"But that would mean… Ooooohhh! Well why didn't you say so in the first place! I almost killed you over a mistake, nyahahaha!"

"…That's not funny."

"Looks like I'm way out of line, huh? I didn't realize you were helping her this whole time…"

Noire looked from Henry to Tharja, then back to Henry, arrow still trained on the former. "EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THIS IS ABOUT, LEST I TEAR YOUR TONGUES FROM YOUR HEADS AND WEAR THEM AS PENDANTS!"

"Your mom's been trying to deal with _that_," Henry explained, making a sweeping gesture that indicated Noire in her entirety. "The whole "Blood and Thunder" thing is really cool and all, but it's also _really_ bad for you. All that dark energy is eating you from the inside out. It's why you're so sickly! Your mom was just trying to use curses to let some of that energy out, like a bloodletting! …Mmmm, blood…"

Noire's posture changed almost immediately, and she turned to Tharja with a surprised look. "M-Mother? Is this true?"

Tharja scowled, but nodded. "From what you've told me, the other me was responsible for the creation of your alter ego. And said alter ego is acting as a nexus for your dark energy, concentrating it within you to the point of making you ill. I'm not much of a mother, I'll admit, but… Well, I couldn't just leave things like this," she muttered, seeming almost embarrassed that she had been caught in the act of caring about her daughter's wellbeing.

Noire stared at Tharja in awe. "Y-you were helping me… the whole time? …Oh, Mother, I knew you cared!" She rushed over and embraced Tharja, who bristled and immediately tried to push her away.

"Get _off_. I'll confess I do care about you, if only a little… but don't think for a second that I'm going to start acting all lovey-dovey all of a sudden!"

Tharja momentarily stopped struggling against Noire, who was now crying a bit, as she noticed Olivia running towards them.

_Ah right, she and Henry are something of an item now, aren't they?_

The dancer came to a stop in front of them, hunched over and out of breath.

"I… I-I saw… you two fighting… from a distance. Is… is everyone… alright?" she wheezed.

"Oh everything's just peachy. Your lover tried to kill me is all."

"What?! Henry, how could you?!"

Tharja was stunned to see Henry look abashed, perhaps even a little ashamed. "…I thought she was hurting her daughter. That just got me really upset, and I, well I… Sorry, Olivia…"

Olivia sighed, then placed a hand on Henry's cheek. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Henry nodded, then turned to Tharja. "Sorry for trying to murder you! Won't happen again, probably!"

"_Henry._"

"_Definitely_ won't," he amended. He frowned, thinking for a moment, then turned to Noire. "And I'm sorry to you too, Noire. I should've realized your mother means a lot to you. Can you forgive me?"

Noire sniffled and nodded. "I-I guess so… just please don't so anything crazy like that again. I don't want to lose my favorite uncle either!"

"No promises, but I'll try my best! Nyahahaha!"

Olivia turned to Tharja, fretting as she pushed her index fingers together. "Umm, Tharja? I know what Henry did was wrong, and I'll have a talk with him about it later, but could you please not tell anyone about this?"

"As if. He tried to _kill_ me. I'm going to report this to Robin and Chrom straight-away."

Olivia began to panic. "No! Please, listen! Henry had a really hard childhood. His parents threw him away when he was a child, and aside from Mr. Mustafa he never really had anyone to care for him before he met us, so he gets really upset about parental abuse and you know how he is about killing but he's really actually very nice and just doesn't know better because no one ever taught him about…" Olivia continue to spill out explanations, becoming increasingly flummoxed as her torrent of information began to ramble.

Tharja's thoughts unintentionally wandered to her husband's own darkness. For how benevolent Libra was, the priest had harbored a darkness within him that Tharja could never have been prepared for. (Come to think of it, that was perhaps the explanation of where Noire's own darkness came from, if it was not simply resultant of the grim future-past.) Libra could've so easily become a monster if he hadn't found acceptance as a clergyman, and all because his parents cast him away. Henry was much the same, she supposed. And he _had_ been acting simply out of concern for her daughter, even if it was in his own twisted way.

Tharja raised a hand, cutting off an increasingly frantic and red-faced Olivia. "…_Fine_. But you owe me big time, both of you. And I always collect on my debts."

The dancer's face lit up. "Of course! Thank you, Tharja!" She tugged on Henry's sleeve. "Henry!" she whispered. "Thank her!"

"Hmm? Oh right! Thanks Tharja! Take care, Noire!" he waved cheerfully, but before Olivia could lead him away, he stood still for a moment. "…Say, Tharja?"

"What?" she growled. She just wanted to get away from the madman and be done with this.

"Would it be alright if I tried to help Noire figure out a way to channel her dark energy? If I can find a way, we can get her all better without you having to curse her."

Tharja blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Only if you'll acquiesce to being my test subject in her place."

"Nyahahaha! Sure, sounds fun!

Tharja nudged her daughter. "Noire, thank your uncle."

Noire jumped in surprise. "Erm, th-thank you Uncle Henry!"

"No problem! See ya later!" With this, he turned to Olivia, slipping his hand into hers before the two left.

Tharja and Noire were left in awkward silence. Tharja looked at her daughter, who was now looking at the ground as she shuffled her feet. Tharja thought quietly for some moments, then issued a command. "Noire, fetch me newt tails, cobwebs, and mockingbird eggs. As of today you're promoted from test subject to assistant."

Noire looked up in shock, then beamed. "R-right away, Mother!" she said excitedly before hurrying into the supply tent.

Tharja stared at nothing in particular. "…I don't know how you messed up so badly," she said to her dead future-past self, "But I'm not going to make the same mistakes as you."


End file.
